


The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men

by AlphaVulpeculae



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: AR Febuwhump (Alex Rider), Gen, Mental Instability, Psychological Torture, Torture, pongnosis' The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29632788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphaVulpeculae/pseuds/AlphaVulpeculae
Summary: Set in pongnosis’ AU shortly before Alex’s 18th birthday.A dull assignment-turned-viscous assassination attempt incites the wrath of a dangerous operative.Keeping him alive had been Yassen’s prerogative for several years and now there is much threatening Alex Rider’s continued existence.There are descriptions of death and violence.
Relationships: Yassen Gregorovich & Alex Rider
Comments: 42
Kudos: 61
Collections: Devil and the Deep Blue Sea Inspired Works





	1. A Very Un-Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> Still pretty new to AO3 so I’m just testing the waters with this. Enjoy!
> 
> \- AV

Alex was set to report in at dawn a few days before his 18th birthday, an age he never thought he’d see all those years ago when he started this career. Any and all gratitude went deservedly to the man sitting across from him perched in a leather chair and typing swiftly on his laptop in the living space. Try as he might, Alex had to admit that that gratitude still temporarily abated in moments of stubbornness and what he often referred to as ‘teenage hormones.’ 

Looking back on those encounters, he couldn’t help but admire the patience of the man. To the outside world, he was ever the obedient Orion. To Yassen, particularly in these moments between missions, he was Alex Rider. 

Perhaps this was by design. Alex’s mental health was regularly assessed and it seemed keeping the two sides kept him balanced. 

Yassen’s standards for him still far exceeded that of other operatives and if balance kept Alex-Orion together, then he seemed content with tolerating the occasional backtalk of Alex to have the aspiring perfection of Orion when completing assignments. 

While jobs were important, Yassen always maintained the personal aspect to their work relationship as well. In particular, birthdays for Alex were celebrated with more fanfare than that of other operatives whether with grants of approval for leave, a mission collaborating with Jack, or recon in a relaxing, tropical climate. 

All this was at the forefront of Alex’s mind as he had—with almost a skip in his step—answered his mentor’s call and settled in the chair across from him. 

Without even a glance or break from typing, albeit one-handed, the man dropped a thin file on the coffee table between them. Then, following a quick pause in typing to review his typing and strike a final key, he shut the laptop and gave a nod to address Alex. 

“We need to address this insurgence in Qena,” Yassen said. “There was unrest with the operations and a mole providing intel the new camaraderie between MI6 and Interpol. Our management was questioned.”

Alex glanced in the case file and noted his assignment to Hurghada. While close to Qena in Egypt, he was surprised at being stationed outside the area in question. 

Yassen, ever the mind reader, noted, “I will have two teams addressing the insurgents in Qena and you will be attending the conference in Hurghada as a sign of good faith and a diversion.”

Alex couldn’t help but consider how dire the circumstance must have become for Yassen to lead the operation himself. Then again, he knew well that at heart, they were operatives; paperwork and management didn’t make the itch and wanting to be on the front line go away easily. Also, if you wanted something done right, do it yourself. 

Alex took a second look at the date of conference and before his brain caught up with his mouth, “A birthday in Hurghada?”

Alex noted the minute change in Yassen’s eyes—his only sign of emotion from the façade—offering a touch of sympathy. “Yes. Assessment, removal, and cleanup is estimated to take up to three days. The length of conferences coincide appropriately.” 

Since Yassen had taken him under his wing, Alex’s birthdays had been reserved as a holiday of sorts though as Alex often noted this time each year, he had no personal information of the man to reciprocate the favor to his mentor. Considering his upbringing, Yassen himself might not definitively know his true day of birth although that conversation had been breached before and ended swiftly with Yassen’s dismissal of irrelevant discussion topics. 

“Yes, sir.” Alex, sharply nodded, collected the file, and glanced at his mentor a last time, noting flecks of approval and—possibly—pride. 

Turning 18 years old had always been a milestone joked about as not possible for him in his line of work. Each year, Yassen in his special way made each birthday a day of importance and while this year the ‘celebration’ would be postponed a day or two, Alex assured himself that Yassen wouldn’t neglect his annual indulgence. 

Trailed by Marcus, he returned to his room in Malagosta and was reminded of his real estate research in the area. Perhaps he should seriously consider having a place of his own—he could afford it after all. Perhaps something similar to Yassen’s cabin. 

He’d need to ask Yassen about security measures though he wouldn’t put it past the man to make it be another ‘test’ for Alex to secure his house himself. Marcus interrupted his drifting thoughts. 

“Sir, I received intel of a break-in at the instructional facility in Venice,” Marcus stated as they walked along. 

“Do we have a lead?” He asked. 

“Cepheus detained the intruder but they died before capture.”

“They died? Do we have an ID?”

“It is still pending. The intruder smeared chemicals over their hands and face to prevent recognition; a chemical compound we hadn’t seen before. He isn’t registered in the system either. A dead end.”

“Is Tom aware of this yet?”

Tom had been sent off with members of Cepheus acting as his detail while he attended classes abroad. 

“Not at this time. Cepheus handled the matter independently. Tom didn’t seem to be the target.”

“What was the target?” 

“That part is unclear. Video footage shows the intruder had stopped just inside the entryway and began using the chemical on themself as soon as the alarm sounded, long before they were even intercepted by guards.”

Alex absorbed this information as they neared his quarters. 

“Keep me posted on any changes. Let Tom know anyway. I need him on his best behavior over there.” 

Marcus let out a breathy chuckle. “Sure thing, boss.”

His entered his room, watched over by two more members of Sagitta, seeing the mildly-organized paper stacks of reports and textbooks, most notably his flight textbook left open to the last page he reviewed before taking and passing his preliminary aircraft exams. 

Marcus remained at his side as he closed his door. 

“What’re we in for this time?” He said with some levity. 

“A conference.” Alex handed him the folder. “We get to sit there, look pretty, dazzle and distract while Yassen addresses the insurgents in the next city over.It’s nothing terribly exciting and we’ll be there for a few days.”

Marcus barked out a laugh and gave him a pat on the shoulder, “With you, there is always something. I’m sure it’ll be exciting in its own way. After it’s over, I’ll treat you to your one drink and take a shots myself for every month I’ve kept you alive.” 

“One drink?” Alex said in faux outrage. 

“You can risk your own neck going against Mr. Gregorovich’s wishes. I’m pushing it with the one drink; I don’t have a death wish.”

Settling into a more serious manner, Marcus assured, “I will review the plans with Sagitta and send over the plan. You getting food?”

“No, I need to catch up on a few things; I can always grab something later.”

Marcus gave Alex a shrug with a humored look and left, leaving Alex to his paperwork. 

Once he settled on his bed with a stack, his phone alerted his to a new text message. 

>Just realized the date. You ready to be an adult? :P

His phone had no saved contacts but Alex knew it to be Jack. Ever busy since passing her customized exams and starting her career with Scorpia, Alex rarely saw her, but Yassen always managed to arrange overlaps in their schedules around major holidays and the occasional birthday. 

>Nope!

The dots appeared instantly indicatingshe was already forming a reply. 

>It’s a miracle he’s put up with you this long. Lord knows you weren’t easy. 

>You better count your blessings he’s around. If I had my way, there would be a blown up embarrassing baby photo plastered on your cake. 

Alex knew Jack reported to Yassen directly or indirectly as she’s required to in her line of work, but this confirmed that they do talk about non-work matters occasionally. Alex laughed to himself thinking of Yassen discussing things as mundane as birthday cake designs with Jack. 

>Well thank goodness for that !

Humored at the thought, Alex let his imagination drift to what an assassin might suggest having decorate a birthday cake given to another killer: “Congrats, you’ve lived another year!” 

He supposed it would just say “Happy Birthday” like any other cake and keep the spot for the name blank for security reasons but the possibilities didn’t dull his sense of humor about it.

Another glance around the room and he figured now was as good a time as any to get started on getting some of it done. 

A knock on the door and a Sagitta member entered carrying a business suit for him. That, and a massive cooler packed with meats and vegetables hardly constituting a meal for one person but considering it was nearing 4PM and Alex hadn’t taken a break from the ever increasing papers and reports, he suspected someone must’ve tattled to Yassen. 

Actually, he wouldn’t have put it past him that Yassen predesigned a protocol if Alex ever missed a meal.

In reaching the bottom of the cooler, there was even a packaged chocolate cookie from his favorite German bakery: a reward or—more likely—a bribe. 

Developing favorites had been discouraged at Scorpia for obvious security reasons but again, Yassen did have a soft spot for Alex. 

Even though the cookie was dark chocolate—likely the healthy variety—he couldn’t turn down the sugary confection. 

Alex pinned the Sagitta agent with a pointed look, silently accusing him of tattling; the man jokingly held up his hands as to say ‘not me.’ With the change of his guards imminent, he invited in the few agents not required to work as security to share some of the food care package (the cookie though, was tucked to the side to be indulged in later). 


	2. Back to School

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...because this is a short chap anyway. Enjoy.  
> \- AV

Alex hit send on another report, handling the final case on his mental to-do list of the day and felt it was a good time to stretch his legs. He slipped on some shoes and left his rooms trailed by security. Taking a stroll across the training facilities, he observed the new students and thought back that younger version of himself among them those few years ago. 

Not much had changed in Malagosto since their takeover and they could be training up to a dozen operatives at a time. Though recently, that large group had dwindled with recent graduations, a couple of failed RTIs, and an unfortunate failed graduation assignment. Still six had graduated so far and, based on d’Arc’s latest report, the school operated according to its typical graduation rate. 

Strolling through the school made him feel at home. A light spattering of people were up and about as well. 

Ross caught his eye walking to the range. 

“Orion, a few students could use a humbling lesson on the range. You game?”

Alex grinned at the chance to chance to practice some shooting before shipped off on yet another diplomatic job. “Sure, should I get on my jeans, tshirt, and backpack on to drive that point home?”

“Ha! The lesson starts in less than five so I think you’ll do as is.”

Together, they walked into the shooting range where the class of four were already waiting. 

“I’ve brought a guest.” Ross motioned over to him by the entrance and he muted his expression—channeling Yassen. “Meet Orion, the youngest Malagosto graduate and second to Mr. Gregorovich.”

The students’ expressions went from disbelief to curiosity to fear. Perhaps the name Orion had only appeared in closed circles by Yassen was known worldwide. Anyone who had Yassen’s favor would certainly be someone to fear. 

As Ross taught the basics of instinctive shooting, he set out twelve weapons on a table at a station. 

“Orion, if you will...” Ross motioned to the table before stepping back and picking up the stopwatch. 

They put on the protective equipment and Alex glanced over at his selection of firearms; it was a rather eclectic variety but he was there to impress. 

He took a calming breath and began. 

Disassembling. Cleaning. Reassembling. Firing. The first few of the lot were performed slower than he would’ve liked—barely acceptable by Yassen’s standards—but quickly finding a calming rhythm to the exercise, his speed increased as well. 

Twelve weapons finished and Ross marked the time with the stopwatch. 

Thickly coated in the smell of gunpowder and gawked at by the latest students—3 women and 1 man—he set down the still-smoking hand cannon. 

Ross then walked them through the handling of each weapon, letting Alex do the demonstration, albeit at a slower pace, while he discussed the steps for disassembling and cleaning. 

Enjoying himself, Alex even followed the trainees to their next and final lesson of the day: combat. 

Any respect he garnered from the male trainee—the one Ross must’ve been referring to when he said a few needed humbling—was lost for some odd reason when entering the pavilion. The instructor paired the man and Alex for combat. 

Considering the man stood almost a foot above Alex and was thick with dense muscle where Alex was lean, the man must thought he’d prevail. Though Alex being well-training well by Yassen for such an occasion swiftly used speed to his advantage and while the man didn’t tire easily, Alex knew his landed kicks and punches would leave its mark. 

A hit to disorient, another to enrage, and Alex used the man’s momentum to flip him onto his back and pinned his arm. 

Infuriated at the loss, the man refused to yield until the instructor called off Alex. “Good show!”

Alex brushed off his clothes and stood. 

“Yaxley, you are dismissed.” 

Standing stiffly and without further look at Alex, he left. 

A small crowd had formed in the pavilion, including Crux and surprisingly, Dr. Three. 

Alex nodded in greeting and went over to them. “Gave up on retirement already?” 

Dr. Three, likely smirking as it seems no one ever beat the mouthiness out of Alex, answered drily “Merely checking up on my protégée.” 

While Alex knew Crux was his favorite student and likely who he was referring to, Dr. Three didn’t seem to take his eyes off Alex which was always a little unnerving. 

“It’s nice to see all the diplomacy hasn’t rusted your other...talents. Though from what I hear, you still hold strong to those  values of yours.”

Not one to argue with the doctor (again) he kept the mood light with a formal, “Yes, sir.” 

They all walked to dinner together and Alex sat politely and listened as Crux and Dr. Three chatted away. 

After the meal, Alex took his leave to prep for his departure.

***

Alex stopped by the infirmary for a last minute check up. 

“Oh Alex,” Dr. Javarti acknowledged kindly. “I was just about to send my assistant to collect you. Anything to note lately? Chest pains, changes in eating habits, allergies?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Okay, the the basics then.” She continued her triage of his condition including drawing blood. 

“Mrs. Starbright is truly a marvel. We’ve been working on an injectable health monitoring unit. The prototype is ready. Mr. Gregorovich has allowed the choice to be yours if you would like to test it out.”

“A tracker?” 

“Not quite. It is still in its infancy stage and tracks only blood pressure and heart rate. There is a limited range on it though: 5 kilometers. Though if your concerned about tracking it uses far more advanced security technology to the one used for your graduation.”

“ Fun ,” Alex said with a grimace. “Where would you put it in?”

“It’s best that it goes in your lower back. We can reuse that old incision of yours. Try not to get hit there but if it happens, it will cease to function.”

“Not blow up?” Alex intoned with some lightness. 

“Not blow up,” she assured.

“Eh, alright then. Tell Jack she owes me one.”

Dr. Javarti smiled lightly. “Of course.”

***

Alex returned to his rooms in an hour later with a needle mark in his arm and a centimeter incision in the small of his back just in time for Marcus to stop holding a gourmet salad. 

“Courtesy of Yassen. Enjoy.” Marcus said flatly. 

Alex grimly looked at the mockingly healthy high-calorie meal. 

“Gee, thanks. You  really shouldn’t have,” he said, grimacing. 

They settled in chairs beside the coffee table in his room looking over intel and Marcus worked through his plan for security as Alex munched absentmindedly on picked out chucks of lettuce and vegetables. 

“There is little room for ground support and rooftop access and surface area presents a problem.”

“Stagger support along the roof and I’ll behave. I promise. They’ll expect me to have a support team anyway. The meeting itself will have its own safety precautions. There are bounties out on two of the generals in attendance as well.”

Discussions continued until late in the day, digressing to finalized reports of other ongoing assignments, until Marcus took his leave. 


	3. A Long Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again...got on a roll this morning and here we are. Also, it was pointed out that this is ‘Febuwhump’. Well, my brain won’t turn off and felt like joining the Febuwhump celebration so here we go.  
> A few changes were made to the end of chapter 2, so please read before continuing. Thanks. - AV

The meetings were painfully long, addressing every concern regarding the rebels’ latest insurgence and what efforts will be in place for the future. Yassen and his team were handling one aspect of that conflict but it was with a different contract, a different buyer. His present company did not need to be aware of that and it had been his sole purpose in attending this conference himself. Confidentiality in operations is a featured offer of Scorpia; his present company will likely never know that a subset of the rebels are being handled as the conference dragged on. 

Talks would continue throughout tomorrow and his birthday. Staving off his mild disappointment for the ordeal, he could look forward to when he did get back; perhaps they’d take a trip on Yassen’s yacht or perhaps—Alex hoped—some time away from the chaos in Yassen’s cabin. Alex always had the fondest memories there: the peace and quiet, the steady routine, the hikes. 

Snapping out of his daydream, he focused back on the discussion—bickering, mostly—between the two generals. 

A third one took over the conversation and suggested they map out the terrain on foot to better understand the situation. Agreements could be heard and Alex followed as they discussed the traffic and environment conditions. 

Reaching their last stop of the tour—a former military building abandoned after the first rebel insurgents launched a tear gas attack—Alex knew immediately something was off. Aside from Marcus stiffening beside him, the world slowed for him and his senses heightened. 

Alex was closely packed in from other people by his security and the sidewalks were clear except for a few stragglers and the two generals-acting-tour guides. 

With the sun directly overhead and the humidity, Alex was sweating through his suit, tie, and under protective garments. While mildly uncomfortable, that wasn’t what was nagging at his senses. 

Hands from his own security shoved Alex downward, ducking his head. 

A movement. A glint of metal. A shot sounded shortly before Scorpia’s own snipers took action and returned fire. 

Marcus stumbled and shouted orders. Alex was rushed into the abandoned building and Scorpia agents swarmed the area. The generals getting lost in the chaos. 

Alex could do nothing as he saw Marcus hit the pavement, ducking from stray bullets, and watch as blood flowed from a hole through his hip. 

“Get him out, NOW!”

Marcus returned first as shots from the other rooftops fired at the sniper. 

Shoved back from the doors, Alex was flanked on all sides.

He heard Shale call into comms, “We need extraction,” and continue to arrange their transport. 

Adams approached him in their defensive position. “Are you hurt?” 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

Alex ran a hand thrown his hair and his wrist was caught by medic with a pointed look. The bullet tearing through Marcus seems to graze his forearm. 

“This was too close,” Adams said with a shake of his head. 

The fire fight outside quieted down but they weren’t safe yet. 

From 0 to 60, so much happened in the next few breaths. The ground shook unnaturally—clearly the effects of a seismic device—and cracks fissured in the the floor and ceiling. Alex was grabbed—bodily shielded—by Adams and they all fell through the floor. The building’s weakened base structure fell like a house of cards on Alex and his team, the floor engulfing them in splintered wood, dust, and debris. 

Outside, the area was overwhelmed by Scorpia agents and security eliminating everyone not recognized as their own. 

Marcus could only watch on in mute horror as the destruction unfolded. 

***

Yassen, only a few miles away finishing up the conflict of his own mission, checked his phone just as a noticing several messages; the first reading:  Code Black.

Instantly his phone rang and he picked up the call from the Marcus. 

No pleasantries or small talk. “The meeting was compromised. Sniper fire. Took a bullet and returned fire to allow time to redirect Sagitta and try and get Orion to safety. It was a setup. There was seismic device. The building fell on Sagitta and Orion.”

Yassen froze. He knew Alex was a trouble magnet but never did he anticipate this. 

“Details?”

“An excavation team has started; equipment is on its way. Two of Sagitta were found, only one alive. No sign yet of Orion, sir.”

“Health monitor?”

“The doctor said there was a spike in heart rate and a drop in blood pressure before it all dropped to zero.”

“How long ago was this?” 

“A little over 20 minutes ago.”

His heart beat heavily in his chest. All those years keeping Alex alive and he might lose him hours away from his 18th birthday. He may have lost him already.

Time was ticking and Yassen heard enough. Weighing the risks of going to Alex himself, he had hoped setting the precedent from previous instances of Alex’s injury would minimize any risk of Alex’s attack being further a trap from himself. 

Even still, Alex’s death was an unacceptable loss. He would either ensure it would not come to pass or personally ensure the individual responsible would pay dearly for his loss. 

“Expand Scorpia’s area of control by five miles and Danube will act in reconnaissance.” 

He ended the call without waiting for Marcus’s reply and addressed his own commanders. He was cold and direct with his orders but as awareness of a complication in Hurghada spread, their immediate obedience and swift action went without further hesitation. Any further clean up of his own mission would be swiftly handled by his team. 

***

Alex came to awareness in dingy air and a claustrophobic space. Steadily, he did a self checklist of injuries.Dampness seeping into his right pant leg and abdomen—seemingly unrelated to the dampness in the space—was the first thing that came to his attention—certainly some superficial damage. His head was foggy at best and he hardly registered feeling in most of his outer extremities—a concussion (hopefully mild, though wishful thinking) and circulation issues. 

His midsection was elevated and pinned between two hard surfaces, the one at his back roughly digging in to his lower back and his head dangled uncomfortably putting excess strain on his neck. 

Alex shifted mildly and struggled to breathe, recalling with uncomfortable clarity the time he was shot through his lung. Though this time, it appeared the large beam laying across his chest blocking his view of his lower half was likely the cause of his breathing troubles. 

Turning his head slowly so as not to aggravate his likely concussion, he assessed the space. Light filtered in through crevices suggesting Alex wasn’t too far underground. 

“Hey!” he called out but it was garbled and a copper taste registered in his mouth and he coughed viciously to clear it. 

The ringing in Alex’s ears dampened the sounds around him but he saw some debris trickle from above and water pouring in from a hole at his periphery. 

Blinking blearily, the feeling of weightlessness became far too enticing as he drifted unconscious. 

Alex woke again to a loud grinding sound of metal. 

More debris shifted and a figure came into view. Striking blue eyes met his. Yassen. 

Dirt covered Yassen’s hands and speckled his clothes but otherwise he looked normal. 

Alex, from a position where his head dangled upside down, watched as Yassan’s mouth moved, issuing commands to the troops before coming to Alex’s side. 

Alex was beyond relieved that Yassen went and braced Alex’s head with his hands, easing the tension in his neck. 

The ringing drowned out Yassen’s voice but lip-reading helped Alex get the gist of what he was saying down to him: “Don’t move”, “stay awake”, and “stay alive.”

His head felt like lead and he could only blink in affirmation, though that last command sent his mind adrift to his conversation with Yassen all those years ago:

_ “I hate you,” he remembered himself saying.  _

_ “At least you are alive to do so,” was Yassen’s response.  _

He doesn’t hate Yassen anymore but maybe it was fitting that this might be the end for him now. He had been in a close calls but getting a building dropped on him made the rest pale in comparison. 

His attention snapped away from his melancholy thoughts when he felt the ground vibrate with the shifting of things and excruciating pain in his left leg, but it wasn’t until the beam laying across his chest shifted that he grunted and squirmed. Breathing was challenging before but now it felt impossible. 

Yassen quick to notice his change in demeanor, halted the efforts of the soldiers excavating him and kneeled at his side, checking him over and realized the issue: the beam now cut off his air supply. Alex hit his hand repeatedly on the beam as he struggled to breathe. 

Though his view was angled because of his positioning, he saw a medic run in from behind Yassen, sloshing through the water, clutching an oxygen tank and mask but Alex’s vision darkened. The last thing he saw was Yassen over him yelling orders with a look in his eyes Alex had never seen before: fear. 


	4. A Family Event

The excavation team moved methodically to ensure further damage to Orion was minimal...until he passed out. Then, everything sped up with extra care for the limp form trapped under the debris in an effort to get that primary beam lifted and disposed of. 

Yassen remained still, keeping pressure on the head wound as Alex’s blood seeped through his fingers, and ordered several events at once. One, Alex was hooked up to triage and assessed more thoroughly as two, the beam Alex was under would be a priority to remove. 

No longer would be concerned on other factors, Alex’s survival was imperative even at the cost to Sagitta. 

Alex would not be happy with the decision but as right now Alex wasn’t conscious to voice his contrary opinion; his preferences were negligible ones. 

The beams were lifted and he assisted the medics with pulled Alex out from underneath. 

An dead unidentifiable Sagitta agent was laying between Alex and the beam, having been punctured by multiple protrusions of the fallen debris. 

Alex thankfully looked to be in one piece, sustaining a crushed arm and chest, and a splintered portion jutting through his calf. 

Splintered portion and all, Alex was transferred to a stretcher and carried away from the worst of the collapse. 

Swarmed by the medics, a tourniquet tied off the circulation to his leg and hands assessed further damage. 

Cleared for transport, Yassen called in the medEvac and stepped in to immobilize Alex on the stretcher himself. There would be no mistakes with Alex’s care. 

With key members of Danube monitoring Alex’s condition closely, Yassen left the rest of excavation to Scorpius, Alex’s secondary security. They would be working long hours to clean up, but such is the consequence for inadequacy. 

Yassen stepped into the cockpit, ran through pre-flight protocol, and departed for the hospital. 

His team was competent to ensure doctors were on the roof ready to accept their new patient and further, that their cover was in place. Soon, Alex became Aaron Brighton, an orphan of a investment banker who was left in the care of his uncle, Daniel Brighton, and they were allotted a private wing of the hospital with all appropriate security measures in place. 

Though first—and most daunting part—was the first few hours. Yassen could do nothing but sit to the side as surgeons addressed the intracranial pressure, the setting of damaged ribs, and the protrusion in Alex’s leg. He busied himself with reviewing security and transport plans and accepted the proffered cup of coffee from Hill as they waited. 

Hill later confirmed to completion of the clean up of his own mission and updated him on the status of the excavation. 

For Alex’s security purposes, Sagitta had grown to accommodate eight individuals. Now, one had still yet to be found under the debris, one were killed, four were in critical care, one had a concussion and superficial injuries, and one had a gunshot wound. 

A veritable mess. Still, his thoughts went to the 17-year old in the OR. 

Scorpia’s attendance at the event was confirmed only last minute. Few knew about the conference and even less knew Alex would be there in particular. 

Yassen made several calls, including one to Jack Starbright. 

She was noticeably distraught but kept her manner prompt and formal as he explained her temporary relocation. 

Another went to Krueger, leader of Cepheus. No further insight was to be had on the break in and Tom Harris was unharmed and taking his required classes. 

Finally, he called Dr. Three. 

The man picked up after the first ring. “I’ve heard. How is he?”

“In surgery.”

“Do keep me posted when he comes out.” 

Yassen offered only a soft sound in affirmation before the call had ended. Noting the usually short, brusque conversation from the rather talkative man, Yassen filed the information away for later as a woman wearing scrubs came out, recognized him and was walking over.

“He is in rough shape from all of this but he will recover. We’ve sedated him but we’ll be bringing him up to his suite shortly. Right now, he’s in the ICU while his room is prepared. You see him if you want.”

Yassen nodded and stood to follow, carrying his laptop and phone with him. 

She was unnerved a bit by his relative silence and offering him a look in sympathy, she lead him away from the waiting room. 

The nurse lead him to the door before continuing to check on some other patients. 

A few beds down, a teenage girl was surrounded by her doting family. A truly obnoxious display of concern and affection. 

And in that moment, he thought of Helen Beckett. Her becoming Helen Rider for such a short time and only have it be the death of her. Her traveling to France for sharing a few scarce moments with John. 

Hunter had been an excellent mentor and would’ve been an excellent father. Helen’s kind, caring nature offset his blunt behavior well.

He couldn’t deny Alex’s likeness to his father and he certainly picked up more of his mother’s morals and kindness and for that, he disliked having to put the boy through this. 

He deserved a normal childhood with affectionate parents and a normal education. Instead...? The world had not been kind to him. 

Yassen ignored the whirring machines and touched Alex’s hand. Less so for the affection in the action and more to feel Alex’s pulse himself. He was alive. 

A building had been dropped on him and he’d need only 3-4 months to recover. If he had any doubts before, he did not now. He certainly inherited his father’s luck. 

Yassen quirked a lip in a wry smile and brushed a hand through Alex’s hair. It had gotten long again and needed to be cut. Stepping away, he pulled up a chair to his bedside and settled in with his laptop. 

***

Alex woke to a feeling of weightlessness and, if it wasn’t for the incessant beeping sound blaring in his ears, he would’ve thought he had died. 

Sound! Alex realized with some cheer. 

Keeping his eyes open and focused was proving to be a difficult task. He did register some movement in his periphery in the form of a nurse who, at noticing his awareness, hit the call button and began entering buttons the machinery. 

It was only when she left did she notice another figure occupying a chair at the foot of his bed with a laptop propped on his side table: Yassen. 

Alex tried to speak but it came out as garble from behind the oxygen mask. Taking a full breathe of air wasn’t easy either. Yassen seemed unusually stiff and uncomfortable, not look up immediately, and intently focused on finishing his typing. 

Alex tried moving but his extremities felt numb and unresponsive. Immediately his mind went frantic thinking what might happen if he had truly lost the use of his limbs and began to struggle, moving what little he could and whimpering at the thought of the loss. 

Yassen’s eyes locked onto him and he was up and at Alex’s side with an enviable amount of grace. 

“Relax. You were given nerve blockers and other medicine post-op to aid recovery. You will recover.” With a steady reassuring look, he added, “Slowly, but you  will recover.” 

With the familiar hand lightly touching his shoulder, Alex quieted down; Yassen rarely repeats himself but despite little change to his outer appearance, he couldn’t help but think Yassen was assuring himself more than Alex of Alex’s recovery. 

In a rare show of affection, Yassen moved the hand from Alex’s shoulder to adjust his oxygen mask before meticulously checking each splint and bandage before returning to his head. Yassen brushed a hand by his cheek and stroked Alex’s hair not covered by bandages lightly—a comfort Alex’s brain only blearily began to process as the nurse returned, trailed by a doctor. 

Yassen stepped out of Alex’s view but the light pressure of fingertips resting near his forehead was reassuring enough that he remained close by. 

“Aaron,” the doctor said with a kind smile, “it’s nice seeing you awake. I know your uncle is eager to get you back to the estate for the rest of your care.” 

Alex went along with it and lightly nodded. There were no hair dye or contacts so he supposed ‘uncle’ made the most sense. 

“You were in  quite the accident. That earthquake caused cars some trouble and you a nasty car accident. You are so lucky you’re uncle found you so fast. Pinned by your car and the incoming floods! Truly, blessed. You could’ve been much worse off—“

“What is his prognosis doctor?” Yassen asked with a polite voice though Alex suspected some sharpness in the tone; ever the pragmatic one. 

The nervous doctor babbled, “The head injury has improved significantly and his back and neck will be sore. The cracked ribs will simply take time but his leg fracture will require the most time and attention to heal. I believe you mentioned having employed a medical staff yourself?”

“Yes, he will be well-cared for at the estate. Is he fit for travel?”

“Commercial? Not for some time. But private and on a stretcher? He’ll need to be secured properly and monitored closely but yes.”

“Money is no object here.” With Yassen out of his view, he could only construe from the mild threat in his tone how important it was getting Alex moved from the area. 

“Excellent,” the doctor said with forced smile. “It will be done.” 

Alex couldn’t see Yassen through the exchange and could only blink albeit blearily at the doctor but contented at feeling Yassen’s hand brush through his hair repeatedly, acting every part of the doting uncle. 

Was it cover or did he care? Alex, figured it was a bit of both. Their relationship was rather odd. If then man had a soft spot for anything, he could say with some degree with certainty that it’d be him. Yassen tended to indulge his whims more than anyone else’s. 

Alex closed his eyes, relishing the touch and let his breathing calm. 

As the doctor finished reviewing his charts and left. Yassen, pulling a chair from behind the head of Alex’s bed, sat down directly beside Alex as Alex struggled to stay awake. Alex faintly heard Yassen say, “Rest. You did well,” and he obliged without a second thought. He knew he was drugged heavily when he imagined a soft, warm touch of lips pressed to his head by his hairline, but he was off in dreamworld long before his mind could discern the event. 

Details of his transfer were settled later that day and by that time, Alex had gained back some movement in his fingertips though the effort ached them. Talk of how lucky Alex had been in his ‘car accident’ had spread throughout the hospital and a few extra nurses lingered by the door peeking in, clearly curious over who the special patient had been. 

Though, when Yassen stepped out to make a phone call, Alex looked on in amusement at a younger nurse’s lingering glance at his ‘uncle’ and Yassen complete disregard of her presence. 

An hour later, Alex realized he hadn’t seen the man since. 

Shortly before departure, Alex was left with members of Danube acting as his ‘medical’ team to secure his stretcher and check vitals. 

As Yassen had been such a constant support to him—likely because Jack wasn’t available—he almost missed his presence. Still, Alex recognized the logic in them not traveling together for security purposes. He’d have to ask Yassen about the state of his own security team in the attack. 

Rather, it was Commander Hill leading the transfer. He himself saw to checking Alex’s bindings along the stretcher and was meticulously thorough about it. 

Upon meeting his gaze, the commander gave him a pointed look and commented, “I am to remind you to listen to the doctor’s orders.”

Now that spurred Alex’s memory on an exchange they had in Abu Dhabi after the Kurst incidence. With a smirk, Alex in a bit of a strained voice under the oxygen mask smugly said, “wasn’t shot this time,” therein bringing the light the technicality that he did hold up his end of their promise. 

Though the message sounded garbled under the oxygen mask, Hill recognized the point he made and shook his head with a bit of mock disapproval. “Luck of the devil,” he muttered. 

Loaded in the helicopter and strapped down, the signal was given to leave and the pilot, with a quick glance at Alex, started their trip. Alex recognized that black hat, the figure, the blue eyes.  Of course, Alex thought.  As if Yassen would trust anyone but himself for the trip.

He chuckled, then coughed, then groaned. He was warned his lungs would take time to heal. 

Of course, one cough lead to more and he began wheezing, earning him a sedative injected into his portable IV and a dreamless sleep. 


	5. Keep Your Enemies Close...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...this is a bit longer than other chapters but alas, it is what it is. Also, it was pointed out that some may not yet have read The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea. If you like this, do read that too (chronologically, read that first! The majority of that story comes before this and there are details here that reference events from DDBS as well, i.e. Alex’s not-so-much of a promise to Commander Hill after Kurst).   
> As always, enjoy.   
> \- AV

Alex woke in his Malagosto suite to the door opening and a familiar figure rushing in. 

“Alex!” Jack exclaimed. “Since I got here no one would tell me what happened. Just that you were hurt. My goodness, you look awful!”

Jack, unsure where to safely touch, settled a gentle hand on his face. 

“Hi. Good to see you too.” Alex voice was scratchy and came out almost as a whisper. 

“I’m so glad you’re alright. Yassen looked downright scary when you both got back. Boy, I’d never thought I’d support murder but I’d love to be a fly on the wall for when he hunts down who did this to you.” 

Alex’s mind was still a bit foggy from the sedatives but he couldn’t help but chuckle at her behavior. Of course it triggered another coughing fit. 

“Oh, Alex,” Jack said sadly, sitting on the edge of his bed brushing a hand through his hair soothingly rubbing his back until the coughing subsided. She also handed over a cup of ice which he greedily took to help soothe his throat.

“My team,” he coughed out. “Do you know?” 

Jack stopped her ministrations and hesitated in her response. “I don’t know much aside from them recovering a few bodies before they found you. They didn’t say—I honestly don’t know.”

Alex nodded solemnly. Then he’d have to ask Yassen next time he saw him or get his hands on his laptop which was—not surprisingly—missing from his suite. He had his cell phone confiscated as well. 

There was a knock at the door and Yassen stepped in holding a thin file and his laptop. Alex had wondered when he’d be properly debriefed. He guessed now was as good a time as ever. 

Jack with a nod in obedience gave Alex’s hair a light ruffle. “I’ll be back after, don’t worry,” she promised before she left. 

Yassen sat in a chair at the foot of his bed, his eyes with a seemingly forced calm nature. 

“Report.” 

Alex’s voice was barely above a whisper, scratchy and cracked occasionally but Yassen never commented, never asked his to speak up, and he never strayed beyond the necessary details when relaying the events of the conference. 

When he reached the end, there was a moment of silence before Yassen spoke. 

“The sniper was regrettably killed on sight however, the individuals responsible for the earthquake were apprehended and extracted for information. Dr. Three saw to it himself while he was here.” 

Alex nodded, internally cringing at the brutal ends for those people. Instead, he asked what he’d been dying to since he woke. “What is the status of Sagitta?” Alex asked. 

“All accounted for.” Yassen’s eyes softened. 

Alex nodded, though that didn’t exactly answer his question. 

Yassen knew this and instead continued, diverting his attention. “You are on leave from duty until you can pass the medical assessment, though that timetable has not been decided yet. You will need considerable time to heal. When you are able, you will be relocated for the remainder of your recovery with appropriate security measures and I have approved Jack’s leave to coincide with this time.”

Alex eyes lit up, a question on the tip of his tongue. 

Yassen procured keys from his pocket and showed Alex. “A safe house is at your disposal for your recovery and will be yours for any subsequent leave you might take in the future.” He deftly tossed the keys into Alex’s bandaged hand. 

“Happy birthday, Alex,” Yassen said flatly. 

“Thank you. That’s...wow.”

He was in shock, and Alex spoke before his brain caught up, “And I only heard there was to be cake.” 

Alex’s eyes widened and mouth popped shut realizing he said his thoughts aloud. He had just been given a house and he was asking about cake. Yassen seemed amused at the comment and the blush adorning Alex’s face. 

“I suppose there was. Your caretaker was rather particular about what image would adorn such a cake. It was an odd request but one the staff was ready, willing and able to fill if you wished for one.”

Alex’s eyes widened further in understanding and the machines beeped in response to his increased heart rate. “No sir, that won’t be necessary.” He could only imagine what embarrassing photo she dug up and was already blushing at the thought it had already been shown to Yassen and some other Scorpia staff. 

Yassen paused, seeming to let Alex stew in his embarrassment before continuing. “I do believe there was incentive from your doctors to introduce solid food. Considering the circumstances...” He strolled over to the door, opened the door, and accepted a small box from a guard outside. 

He handed Alex the small box, and after a moment of Alex fumbling to get his healing fingers to function, opened the top for him. 

Inside was a single vanilla cupcake with dark icing and a piped design in white. Alex recognized immediately that it was the Orion constellation and Alex couldn’t help but smile. 

After all, a cake with “happy birthday Alex” might be tracked too closely and probably poisoned but a decorated cupcake would go under the radar easily. He was rather touched at the gesture. 

Alex could feel exhaustion creeping into his senses but couldn’t contain himself at the thought of eating something other than ice cubes, applesauce, and oatmeal. 

Yassen seemed to purposefully direct his attention elsewhere, busying himself checking his phone, then later his laptop. It was almost in an effort to turn a blind eye to the blatant disregard of his typical health demands. 

Alex polished the cupcake off in a handful of polite bites shortly before exhaustion took over his senses. 

Yassen—balancing his laptop in one hand—collected the box and wrapper and disposed of it before collecting the keys and laying them on Alex’s bed stand. 

Alex couldn’t keep his eyes open but shifted when Yassen silently adjusted his pillows. Drifting off to sleep, Alex didn’t see Yassen situate himself in the empty spot on the bed next to Alex with his back propped on the headboard. 

He didn’t feel Yassen shift to prop his feet up on the bed so he could continue to work while keeping Alex company, though Alex slept better for it. 

He also didn’t realize that when Jack returned several hours later, Alex had forgone the pillows, had an arm stretched across Yassen waist, and was resting his head snuggly against the man’s thigh.Neither did Alex realize when when he got caught in a nightmare of cave-ins and free-falling into an abyss, Yassen had adapted to typing one-handed to free the other hand for soothingly brushing through Alex’s hair. He had no further nightmares and slept like a rock. 

Jack jokingly thought of how better comfort could be offered from someone other than a trained killer. Though, she couldn’t help but appreciate how Yassen cared for Alex in his own way, considering all they’ve lived through. 

Resolutely, she shut the door, choosing to return to her own room instead, content that Alex was well looked after. 

Before entering her own room, she recognized the interrogations specialist coming down the hall. 

“Ms. Starbright,” he acknowledged with a nod. 

“Sir,” she responded politely, never forgetting the part he played in saving Alex from Kurst no matter how ruthless he was. Still, he was terrifying and Jack was glad she never had to do business with him. 

Yassen became acutely aware of the familiar voice in the exchange outside the door and gently shifted Alex back onto his pillows. While Dr. Three rarely made house calls, Yassen couldn’t be surprised that the man wanted to ensure the future of Scorpia was recovering from the ordeal. 

Setting the laptop aside, he settled a few more pillows around Alex and fixed the comforter, before approaching the door as Dr. Three knocked lightly on its surface. Opening the door, Dr. Three looked calm but content, “Ah, Yassen. Funny how many long years drilling in Alex’s obedience skills and yet you’re sitting here like a guard dog.”

Only Dr. Three could manage such an insolent comment. While Yassen contemplated Three’s murder often, they both knew Three was far more valuable alive. 

“How is he recovering?”

“I am ensuring he follows his medical orders. Nothing more. He is alive,” Yassen clarified with ire bleeding through his seemingly polite tone. 

Acutely aware of the danger Three had often been to Alex, he repositioned himself between them. He had also spent the many hours of Alex’s unconscious state theorizing the perpetrator behind the attack and Dr. Three was quite close to the top of that list. 

“Of course,” Dr. Three said amicably. “Quite the luck that boy has...not many can say they’ve survived having a building dropped on them. It is pleasing how hard he is to kill. Such spirit. Such tenacity....”

Yassen tensed at the comment, ready to strike at a moments notice. 

Dr. Three continued, “...but it will be curious how he handles the aftermath. I’m quite content in his ability and that of his security regardless of all his unnecessary attachments. He will make a fine leader.”

Yassen kept steady eye contact but did not speak, his body language likely emphasizing his dislike of Dr. Three’s presence. 

“An eighteenth birthday though. I understand you’re rather strict with him but do give him this. Consider it a token of my appreciation.” Dr. Three handed over a small wrapped parcel. 

“I believe Nile will be returning shortly from another errand and I’d like to catch him before he retires for the night.” Giving Alex a curious look. “If his ‘attachments’ keep him alive, then so be it. Just ensure the feeling isn’t mutual. Little Alex dying to save his guards is counterproductive.”

With a shrug, Dr. Three took his leave, though before closing the door, whispered conspiratorially, “He does look like John. Uncanny, really. Oh, and you should know: I was finally chatting with the individuals operating the seismic device and they were acting on behalf of an old friend of Alex’s. Alan Blunt is incredibly foolish to believe he could kill our Orion with a few poor sniper shots and a mere building.”

Dr. Three strolled away with a measured pace, leaving Yassen standing in the doorway stiffly. 

At the sound of the door shutting, Alex shifted in his sleep, attempting to feign his slumber. Really, he woken around the derisive comment about his ‘attachments’ though he couldn’t hear his whispered comment and tried to move closer. 

“Alex.” Of course Yassen would never fall for such a display. 

An eye wearily opened. “What did he want?”

“Tomorrow. Now, you sleep.”

A mumble in affirmation was all he got before Alex settled back down. 

The room went quiet and Yassen notably didn’t hear Alex’s breathing deepen in his slumber. He hesitated. He should leave. He needed to act of this new intel. 

“Don’t leave. Please.” It was barely above a whisper but Yassen had heard. 

Silently he recollected his laptop, resumed his previous spot on the bed, and Alex curled into his side. 

Not unused to being a pillow for the teenager, he had permitted this indulgence for Alex. 

He recalled that quiet, behaved infant at John’s funeral, then remembered that obstinate boy who mouthing off at the sociopath, Sayle. Reviewing the footage from the Hurghada conference, he contemplated his actions against the man that set Alex down this path. 

Several hours later, Yassen noticed that while Alex moved to a more comfortable position on his side, he had yet to fall back asleep and paused his typing. 

Alex, taking the cue, asked, “Further status update on Saggita?”

Yassen thought about how he wished to respond and dismissed the inquiry. “Sleep.”

It wasn’t enough and the pause and peculiar tone set off Alex’s radar. Alex’s eyes snapped open. “No,” he gasped. “I need to know. Please.” 

He went to get up—likely to get his own laptop—and while Yassen was not surprised at his command being ignored, he settled a hand on Alex’s shoulder and tried to ignore how easy it was to push Alex back down despite his clear agitation. His mental and physical exhaustion was certainly showing. 

He had not wished to discuss this without Alex receiving a full night’s sleep. Resigning himself, he set aside the laptop and recited from memory, “Your commander is recovering from a shattered hip and broken rib from sniper rounds. Thomas and Williams are in critical condition. Reid failed to respond to resuscitation attempts and Adams died on impact by shielding you from a fractured metal beam. The remainder of Sagitta are recovering from concussions and other superficial injuries.”

Alex paled, processing all the information, and tried again to sit up, this time successful with Yassen’s help. All Yassen said before was that they were ‘all accounted for’. Tears slid down his faces and the nausea returned. He settled staring at his shaky hands in his lap. 

“They did their job admirably so you can do yours.”

The highest of praises for his team. Alex nodded at the reminder, but that didn’t stop the shaking, or more tears. Alex couldn’t remember when it had become okay to cry in front of Yassen but considering the man saw him in far worse states, he couldn’t be bothered keeping it together. 

Yassen lifted Alex’s chin, tipping his head up, and brushed away the tears. 

“You’re still young and because of them, you are still alive.”

When Alex thought of how his coming-of-age would go with his career choice and hadn’t envisioned this. However, something still lingered in Yassen’s tone. 

Alex’s expressed hardened. “There’s more, isn’t there?” More of a statement than a question but Yassen answered nonetheless. 

“The operatives managing the seismic device were at MI6’s directive. It is suspected that the sniper was hired by MI6 as well. You will need to remain at Malagosto for your recovery.”

Blunt.

Yassen watched on as the expressions shifted across Alex’s face from sadness to anger to fury and resigned on a cold stare as he looked toward the window next to his bed. 

Alex looked back to Yassen to see the simmering fury with a hint of sympathy and nodded in acknowledgement. 

“Rest. Heal. We will address the remaining matters tomorrow.”

Alex had already defied him once today, he doubted he’d offer the same leniency now and laid down. Dried tear tracks lined his cheeks but his hands no longer shook and his eyes were full of determination. 

He looked over and spotted a small unfamiliar wrapped box with a bow. “Is that from Dr. Three?”

“Yes, Alex.” He sounded almost exasperated but knowing Alex’s stubborn streak, particularly today, he obliged his curiosity and retrieved the gift. Albeit it was a calculated risk—as most things were when Dr. Three was involved—but even now, Alex was more valuable to Dr. Three alive than dead. 

Alex opened it to find a small unmarked bottle full of clear liquid and a syringe. 

“Is that...?” Alex was hardly sure of what he was asking. 

“Dr. Three has supplied you with one of his RIT concoctions. I would assume it is the nerve agent but he would know best.” 

Blunt. Dr. Three’s gift.

The pieces clicked together and yet Alex found it oddly convenient for Blunt to just ‘happen upon’ the information of his whereabouts. Though he couldn’t stop the disgust thinking of Blunt ignoring the massive loss of life he caused and all to get to Alex. 

He set the gift and it’s contents on his nightstand and curled back against Yassen’s side before falling into a surprisingly dreamless sleep. 


	6. - Interlude -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little fun before things get dark.  
> I wanted to include something of Alex during his recovery (also, I have little to no medical training so if things are a little inaccurate, well I did my best haha)  
> Enjoy.  
> \- AV

A frustrated Alex was a difficult situation for Commander Hill. He was made aware that nearing the two month mark, the doctor allowed light stretching and—as Alex still experienced discomfort from the concussion—he was only allowed minimal work. 

For a kid trained under Scorpia’s “idle hands” philosophy for the last four years, Alex was losing patience with his limitations. 

One particular day in question made Hill doubt he’d live long enough to regret it. 

Yassen had been in earlier to check in on Alex’s condition noting his aggravated state and ignoring Alex’s mouthing off. Yassen further denied his request for his laptop. 

“So I just vegetate and what, watch paint dry?”

Hill couldn’t see Yassen but pitied the man for taking on the willful teenager. 

“You will rest. Perhaps when your doctor allows, you can sit in on classes. I’m sure Crux would enjoy another student in her classes.”

Alex stewed in his frustration but didn’t further press the issue. 

***

Today, Alex was desperate for fresh air and Hill obliged the offer with the doctor’s conditioned approval, likely out of sheer empathy for a kid who clearly had too much energy to burn and nothing to do. 

However, Alex had other ideas for an outside excursion. 

He was smart enough to wait until Hill left and prep his security detail because when Hill returned, the window was wide open and Alex was gone. 

Hill swore to himself as he stuck his head out the open window to watch Alex moving steadily across a windowsill further down the building. 

Returning to the hall, he coordinated break-in through the adjoining quarters (Jack’s quarters), breaking in the door to access the flat and opening the window. 

Hill reached out as Alex crossed in front of the window and grabbed him, pulling the recalcitrant teenager headfirst through the opening. 

This threw off Alex’s balance off and he tumbled in through the window. Hill deftly caught him, softening any serious impact considerably but Alex’s foot had caught on the window frame causing the joint to audibly pop!before being pulled inside as well. 

“What the hell!” Alex said, pulling himself off of Hill, though quickly realized his mistake in putting full weight on his right foot. Caught from tumbling forward by the other soldier, Alex steadied himself. 

“Well, shit.” Alex at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed as he saw Hill still sprawled on the floor by the open window. 

Though his expression froze when his eye noticed the figure standing in the hallway through the broken down door. 

Yassen...holding Alex’s laptop.  Damn . 

“Commander,” Yassen said in a voice void of emotion. “Report.”

Hill got to his feet swiftly. “Mr. Rider requested a short trip outside and took matters into his own hands while we prepared the necessary security.”

Yassen’s eyes flitted to the other two members of Danube standing in the room looking flustered before setting his sights on Alex. “So it seems.”

Yassen stepped in the room and handed Hill Alex’s laptop. 

“Return this to my quarters and you all are dismissed.”

Nodding, they left with the laptop in hand, leaving Alex standing—albeit more gingerly on his right foot, exhausted by the day’s event. 

“I understand you may miss Ms. Starbright but this is unacceptable behavior.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You will return to your quarters at once.”

Alex tried again to put pressure on his right ankle but it wasn’t being a very cooperative weight-bearing limb. Hopping around on his left foot, using the bed frame to balance, Alex made progress before he stumbled to his knees. 

Yassen gave him a look of impatience with a raised eyebrow as if to say ‘ get on with it; crawl if you must’ . 

Humiliated, but left with little alternative, Alex crawled towards the door. He made it half way there before Yassen seemed to accept that Alex had learned his lesson, and offered a hand up. Alex took it gratefully. 

However, realization dawned on Alex that getting him back to his room would be no easy feat. He could hobble his way there with Yassen’s help but—

All further thought was cut off by Yassen lifting Alex to be carried like a sack of flour. If Alex felt humiliated before, it paled in comparison to the waves of humiliation channeled on his face now. He was suddenly grateful for Danube’s dismissal. 

The trip was blessedly short and soon Alex was deposited back on his bed. 

“Am I correct in assuming there will not be a repeat performance?” 

A few thoughts came to the forefront of his rebellious teenage mind including a comment about not making promises he couldn’t keep and an old adage about assuming things (how it’d make an “ass” of “u” and “me”), but Alex settled on a tried and true, “Yes, sir.”

A glint in his eye gave away the fact that Yassen was quite amused by the situation. 

“What did you hope to gain in Jack’s suite?”

Alex shrugged. “I don’t know. Playing cards, I guess. She usually kept a pack in her purse when I was growing up to keep me busy if things got boring.”

Yassen nodded slowly, emotion flat and guarded, clearly trying to work through the teenage logic of escaping through one window to break in another one and all for a set of playing cards. 

A knock sounded at the door and one of Yassen’s bodyguards handed him his personal laptop before shutting the door without further word. 

Yassen settled in the chair at the base of Alex’s bed as Alex watched uncertainly. 

Typing away, he didn’t even glance up as he explained, “Three of my best agents couldn’t handle an unruly teenager. I trust you will behave now?” 

Thoroughly chastised, Alex nodded mutely from his spot lying on the bed, and redirected his attention to the ceiling tiles. 

A little over an hour later, another knock sounded at the door and Yassen swiftly collected the item the guard brought before returning to his chair. 

When Alex’s curiosity got the better of him and he glanced at Yassen, a small projectile was thrown at his head and relying purely on reflexes, he caught the parcel:  playing cards . 

A warm and fuzzy feeling flooded Alex’s senses. “Thanks.” 


	7. ...And Your Friends Closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn’t planning on posting again so soon, but the Interlude had been rather short...  
> Anyway, the story continues!  
> \- AV

In the morning, Alex woke to an empty room with a note of instructions from the doctor. He was finally free from his mostly-bedridden state but was under strict guidelines for movement and exercise. 

Reveling in the good news, some fresh air seemed to be an order, even if it came with a now eight-person Danube detail. 

He relayed this to one of the two guards posted on the inside of his door and the preparations were made as he showered and dressed.

Along his stroll, he noted individuals moving around more notably, moving in groups and not lingering as long as usual. 

Malagosto was typically a safe place—well not safe in the normal sense of the term but certainly protected from the outside world of intelligence and terrorist organization. Perhaps d’Arc had remarked about recent events. 

He could’ve ordered room service in his room but rounding the bend, the smell of food was far too enticing and nearby to pass up. Entering the cafeteria, he spotted a small gathering of students, and just beyond them, Shale and Ivey. 

A weight settled on his shoulders recalling what Yassen had informed him those weeks ago. 

In quick observation, the two were lightly bandaged but otherwise alright. With the students and teachers, they looked like an odd set; broody and unsocial. With Alex in his mindset, he would fit right in with the duo. Alex grabbed a tray of food and went to sit with them. 

Sensing his movement, Shale picked his head up and spotted him first. “Alex, it’s good to see you out and about.”

“You too.” He took a chair next to Ivey and started eating. 

“We’re set to take a few refresher courses while Marcus reviews applications. He’ll be narrowing the candidates down but the final say will be yours.”

Alex nodded but contemplated dismissing the remaining Sagitta unit. 

They were paid well enough and could happily retire at this point. Plus, their life expectancies would skyrocket the further they removed themselves from him. 

Classes must’ve started again because the cafeteria emptied except for their small group. 

Alex looked between them and said flatly, “Blunt made this personal and I’ll be the one to end it.”

Ivey noted Alex’s Yassen-like cold demeanor and nodded obediently in affirmation. 

Shale darkly chuckled. “We’ll escort you in. No worries there. He deserves to see what he created in action and there’s no way in hell I’m not going to be there for it.”

“Any further news regarding Sagitta?”

Shale answered, “We ultimately lost four in the collapse. The rest are healing.”

“You should be resting too,” Shale further admonished, trying the lighten the tone. “Oh, and happy birthday kid. With your shit luck, it’s a relief to see you make it to 18. We should celebrate, there’s too much gloom around here nowadays.”

Alex saw what Shale was trying do but Alex could offer more than a forced smile. “Perhaps.”

Several days later, Alex’s enforced sedentary lifestyle had him climbing the walls. Adding insult to injury, care packages with only the healthiest food were delivered to his door again if he didn’t handle his meals promptly enough.

Yassen had left on business, handling another matter abroad—leaving Danube with Alex—and opting to test a new team himself alongside the reformed Scorpus team.Alex had re-reviewed his security layout of the incident and recognized several Scorpus agents occupying roofs nearest where the sniper fired did not return to Malagosto and were removed from the register. 

While he was aware that the synthetic earthquake had taken out a few members of Scorpus, it was too coincidental that so many had been listed as such. Especially in his line of work, there were no coincidences. 

He knew what Scorpia was as an organization and what be required of his security detail. For an enemy to infiltrate them so easily was unacceptable. 

He still didn’t like it, but he understood it. 

Answering the knock at the door, Alex opened it to find Commander Hill carrying another ‘care package’ and grumbled. 

“Hey, sorry you got stuck with babysitting duties today.”

Hill smirked at Alex’s self admonishment. “You attract far too much trouble for it to be boring. Mr. Gregorovich was quite specific in his appointment.”

“I suppose so, huh. Well, come in. I could use the company. I’m really sorry about that—” Hill brushed off his apology and stepped inside. 

Alex locked the door behind him, motioning him to take a seat by the coffee table. 

“I imagine you’re here to pick my brain and report back to Yassen regarding my mental health so let’s get this over with. Let’s see, I’d rather be doing something other than bloody paperwork, I’d like to go out and do things to stop feeling my muscles near-atrophy, and I am craving a pizza instead of this crap,” Alex said, plopping the bag on the table, extracting the bag of carrot sticks and biting into one with a derisive snap to prove his point. 

Alex huffed but calmed down after his mini-rant. He supposed he may be too whiny right now but not only had Commander Hill seen Orion in action but he, like Sagitta, was there to watch Alex grow up these last few years. 

He hardly needed to keep up appearances and for that, he was grateful Yassen specifically requested Hill to stop by though he suspected he wasn’t yet forgiven for the escape attempt earlier in his healing.

Together they reviewed present affairs over the table jam-packed with high protein-, high nutrient-snacks. Hill apprised him of Yassen’s directives regarding reciprocation of the incident and handling rebuilding Sagitta. Soon the afternoon flew by. Alex learned about selecting replacements in what had been such a solid team and Hill offered his condolences for the losses. 

When the sun went down, he dismissed Hill and returned to reviewing briefings, paperwork, and his research into MI6 headquarters. 

He could’ve delegated the research but he remembered a lot from personal experience that he wanted to handle it himself. 

It was odd. Yassen hadn’t discussed the matter since the night of Dr. Three’s visit but hadn’t acted upon the information yet either. He was waiting for something. 

He thought back to Julia Rothman—how long Yassen waited for revenge—and recognized his own shortcomings. Alex would not be waiting 14 years for Blunt. He also was unsure of what to do with Blunt once he had him, however eager Dr. Three seemed to assist. 

Could he do that? Could he kill for revenge? 

Revenge against Blunt? Perhaps. 

Something still unsettled him. Did Blunt obtain the information himself? 

Likely not. Alex would need to know to remove that mole. 

To amend his further internal questioning to include the line of thinking:

Would he be able to sit back and extract the information from Blunt? 

Probably not, but he could still delegate the job. 

Alex noted in the files that a certain ‘Tulip Jones’ no longer worked for MI6 and retired to the states. While her location was undisclosed, a girl sharing a significant percentage of her facial characteristics lived in Maine. A daughter perhaps? Or even a niece, he supposed. He internally filed the information away in case he couldn’t get Blunt. 

Another knock at his door interrupted further consideration of the matter. 

He got to his feet slowly, feeling the ache in his midsection from sitting awkwardly typing on his laptop, and stretched his legs as he answered the door. 

Marcus holding a pizza box stood in the doorway looking a little worse for wear but otherwise alright. 

“Imagine my surprise getting orders to be a pizza delivery boy.” Despite the mild insult to his station, he offered Alex a genuine smile. 

Alex invited him in and they lounged around the coffee table. He did note Marcus’s awkwardness to sit. 

“How’s the hip?” 

“Healing too slowly for my tastes. At least I can honestly say I’d take a bullet for you. Though watching everything collapse in...” Marcus’ face paled at the memory and voice trailed off but Alex knew what he meant. 

Losing members of the team to a cave-in was bad enough but to be forced to watch it happen when there is nothing you can do? Inconceivable. 

“Well, you always keep it interesting for us. No one could’ve anticipated them dropping a house on you. Not even the wicked witch survived that ordeal and yet you pop out of it like a daisy.”

“Not without help,” Alex said with dark humor. 

Marcus shook his head. “You mean your team did their jobs? You pay us enough to put up with you. There has to be some return on investment on your end. Seeing you make it to your 18th birthday, well, it means I haven’t done too shabby of a job...” Marcus voice cracked at the admission and trailed off again, looking past Alex. 

After all the bravado and the dark jokes and sarcasm, Alex couldn’t have imagined the almost choked up sound Marcus made toward the end. 

“Hey, believe it or not, I qualify as an adult now.”

“You? An adult? Never.” Though the joke fell a little flat and the remaining few slices started getting cold, untouched. 

They sat in silence for some time, lost in thought over last week’s events. 

“I was also sent to make sure you were resting.” He took out and uncapped a syringe, likely some type of tranquilizer. “After all, they shoved us through all that extensive medical training in case you got a paper cut. It had to be good for something. Though I suppose they also thought you’d be more receptive to me offering this than your other doctors. How have you been sleeping?”

Alex looked at the syringe and shook his head. “I’m not getting as much sleep as I usually do but I’m sure the exhaustion will kick in sometime real soon.”

Alex was tense and remembered in detail the sniper, the cave-in, and the Sagitta members who died protecting him. Sleep hadn’t been easy. 

“My orders were specifically to ‘do as I saw fit’ to ensure you are resting appropriately.” Marcus said with a light, sympathetic smile. 

“And if I say no?” Alex retorted, smartly. “As if you could take me on in your state, old man.” Jokes and teasing were far safer than talks of mental health, coping, and the latest assassination attempt. 

“I think that was the intent. You would be less likely to fight it if we were both injured...and perhaps you’d have enough guilt to comply without too much fuss.” Alex couldn’t dispute the logic. Yassen knew him too well. 

He recalled with a startlingly clear amount of detail his last moments with Adams. A tear slipped out and down his cheek but Alex couldn’t give up his attempt at passive dark jokes. “If he wanted me to sleep so bad, he could’ve just spiked the pizza.”

Marcus missed nothing. He saw Alex’s puffy eyes, how tired Alex looked...and remembered how young he was too. Even an eighteen year old was barely an adult. Most eighteen year olds he knew mooched off their parents until their mid-twenties. Alex at fourteen had been taught to survive more than the occasional trip to the tracery store. 

Alex shifted under the man’s gaze, lounging out of the couch, before eating another piece of pizza. Marcus envied his ease because he’d sure he’d get heartburn for doing the same but moreover, the action only further blared how young Alex truly was. 

“How are you, Alex, truly?”

“Managing.”

Marcus seemed dissatisfied with his answer. “How are you really?” 

Silence. 

“That’s what I thought.” 

He shifted the sedative on the table closer to Alex and stood to leave. 

“We will get the bastard, but we need you back at your best. It’s your choice.” 

Alex looked up at him and nodded. Barely breaking eye contact, Alex picked up the syringe and injected the contents into his arm. “There. Happy?” Though the effects were almost immediate and Alex muscles relaxed, enjoying the feel of the soft couch cushions. Reclined on the couch with his legs now one or two inches too long for the couch dangling over the armrest. 

Marcus considered helping Alex back into bed but, considering it’s untouched state, could be content that Alex had at least some rest even though it was on a couch. 

Still, he pulled the blanket off the bed and settled it over Alex. He seen Alex’s file—practically memorized it by now—and could help but think of his nephew half a world away. 

If his nephew had been conscripted into his line of work at such a young age, he would surely have enjoyed gutting the handler. 

He would enjoy ensuring Blunt would get a similar, bitter end. 

He left and secured the door behind him. 


	8. So...Shall We Begin?

The one night of enforced sleep opened the floodgates of exhaustion he’d been ignoring since those first few days back in Malagosto. 

Alex kept up a old familiar pattern of waking up groggily, eating the proffered food delivered without fuss and going back to sleep, curled up on his bed buried in an excess of pillows and blankets. 

Little work or progress in planning occurred over the next few days. Though Yassen returned to Malagosto at some point and, instead of staying in his own rooms, seemed to prefer spending the majority of his time in Alex’s. 

On the second day of this new arrangement, Alex woke long enough to inhale the green, murky-looking protein smoothie he was handed by the far too content assassin and settle back into bed.

Alex grumbled at the look of amusement Yassen sent him over the screen of his laptop. 

Curling back under the covers, Alex couldn’t help but be contented by the fond memories of it just being him and Yassen in simpler times: training in the cabin, on the yacht, at his suite. 

Yassen still didn’t condone laziness but accepted that Alex needed to crash after missions and certainly was behind Marcus’ visit and the pizza bribe to ensure Alex got his needed time to crash. 

A little over a year ago, he remembered asking Yassen about why he allowed Alex’s unusual sleeping habits after a rather daunting mission. The man brushed off the question, asserting, “Teenagers need sleep.” And that was that. 

Too soon, a light hand shaking his shoulder woke him from his nap, likely to ensure he ate at more normal intervals. Alex blearily grumbled and rolled over, snuggling deeper into his bed. 

“Alex,” A hint of exasperation though with a lightness of humor. 

Praying an eye open, he took the proffered vitamins and scarfed down the half of sandwich with a scowl before dropping back into bed and falling unconscious. 

***

Two day later found Alex seated at a table with Dr. Three, Yassen, and Marcus in an isolated room likely bombarded with every security measure imaginable. 

“Alex, always good to see you up and moving,” Dr. Three said, kindly. He almost sounded sincere. 

“Dr. Three,” Alex greeted with a nod. 

The doctor skipped further small talk and stated pragmatically, “A combat team led by Nile is being arranged to handle Blunt. I am certain they will—”

“No!” His outburst echoed in the space but thankfully had been only a fraction louder than Dr. Three himself. He had not anticipated this. 

Alex had improved at controlling his emotions around Three but still had trouble suppressing the knee-jerk reaction to his disagreements with the doctor. 

A pointed look from Yassen clearly indicated his disapproval of Alex’s tone but the doctor himself seemed more amused than offended. 

“I respectfully disagree,” he amended in a more controlled manner. Searching for something to explain his disagreement, he settled on one key fact. “Nile does not have first-hand experience of MI6 headquarters. I do.”

Alex was almost hurt at the oversight. After his first near-assassination he was required to address the matter himself. Now it is Blunt and he gets sidelined? He sustained injuries from the Hurghada event and still had some pain in his leg but nothing of consequence. 

Dr. Three even went to the effort of looking surprised at his words. Yassen remained perfectly still. 

“I will handle Blunt and will take whoever is available from Sagitta and team Danube to lead the operation.”

A bit of pride showed in Yassen’s eyes at the initiative. 

“You do realize how valuable a subject like Blunt would be for interrogation. Will you be handling that part as well?”

A fair question. It made logical sense. Alex’s stubborn willfulness opened a rather dangerous door. Instead, he gave an answer his policy negotiator instructor would be proud of. “Yes, Blunt would be valuable. I can have that matter addressed as well.” 

It didn’t contradict Three’s suggestion but it didn’t affirm Alex himself as the interrogator. 

Three was not so easily fooled and simply pouted lightly at the remark. 

“Your recovery could take up to another two months. What value is there in waiting further?” Another fair question. From Yassen, of course. 

To say ‘because I want to’ came first to his head,  _ thanks teenage brain _ . But instead, he used their own words against them. “The attack was directed at me and it would show weakness to not respond myself.” 

To make it seem less petty, Alex continued, “Nile is a well-trained operative but first-hand knowledge of both the building and of other individuals working around Blunt is valuable. Rushing into such a situation would be rash and waiting for the opportune moment would allow for easier extraction. My doctors believe it would take another 3 to 6 weeks to recover based on my current progress. I will defer to their expertise but they had admitted to believing it to be closer to the lower end of that estimate considering my age and fitness.”

Dr. Three’s eyes flitted to Yassen’s. 

“Approved,” Yassen affirmed. “You will provide a report on your extraction and interrogation plans by the end of the week. Dismissed.”

“Yes, sir.”

***

Alex spent the next week diligently following all doctor instruction, handling his physical therapy exercises with due diligence, and preordering Yassen-approved meals that also coordinated with the nutrition requirements of the doctors’ notices. 

He never had siblings to contend with growing up but for Dr. Three to recommend Nile instead...? He was irked by the suggestion and intended on doing everything he could to recover quickly and give them little further reason to doubt him. 

He had few visitors but quickly addressed any of their concerns and questions be it Dr. Javarti, Commander Hill, or Marcus before returning to his prep work. 

Blueprints of air traffic, sewage passes, the streets of London were laid out around his bedroom. He knew where Blunt had lived, which cafés he had visited more than once, and how he received his groceries.

He considered launching the attack at Blunt’s residence but then images of the members of Sagitta killed in Hurghada, specifically of Adams, came into mind. 

No, he needed to send a message: he would attack MI6. After all, that was the leverage he had used in convincing Dr. Three against using Nile. He couldn’t disappoint them now. 

On Thursday, he finished his draft and ran it by both Marcus and Hill before submitting it Friday morning before breakfast. 

Anticipation clawed at his senses leaving him on edge. It was happening. He took off for a short run, feeling exhilarated. His six-point security following diligently beside and behind him. 

He had passed the first round of physical assessments the day prior and scheduled a follow-up assessment for the following Thursday. Physically, he was healing quickly, though his head injury had been the last concerning factor. 

From what the doctor had suggested, there was something off about his head injury that they wanted to reassess in a week; he knew he could review in his medical file himself to find out specifically what had them calling for a follow-up but he didn’t want to. After finding out about his likely Stockholm Syndrome the first time, he was remiss to take a another peek. 

If his doctors said he was fine and just needed a second evaluation, he was. 

Stopping off to pick up a protein smoothie, he continued on his way back to his room. 

Opening the door, he hardly noticed its organized chaos decor. Papers, textbooks, blueprints were strewn everywhere: taped to walls, lining the floor, covering all surfaces except for a third of Alex’s bed, a space just large enough for Alex to get his recommended hours of sleep for maximum recovery. 

Settling in the free spot, he grabbed his laptop and diligently read through the other active Scorpia operations, evening checking up on the progress of their current class of students. 

Eventually he’d be taking over the organization himself and Yassen always handled matters seamlessly. He doubted he’d ever be as good as Yassen in that role but he should at least put in the effort to start learning. 

The weekend passed uneventfully and the approval for his plans came Monday morning. He was pleased. He celebrated with a longer run and an extra trip to the shooting range, which Ross had been more than willing to accommodate. 

Training longer and harder, Alex felt back to normal, if not better than normal. His injuries no longer inhibited him and he never dreamt at night. 

On Wednesday, after finishing his morning run, he spotted the current class entering the dojo for morning lessons. He had been sparring with his security to get back in shape but they were a far cry from Malagosto graduates, even the students. 

When he passed the initial medical assessment he was encouraged to slowly introduce rigorous activity. This likely was not what they had in mind but he needed this. 

He was practically healed anyway. The doctor had said so themself. 

A familiar face was among the trainees...Yaxley, his mind supplied helpfully. He recalled when reviewing the current students’ progress that Yaxley had passed his RTI and Interrogation classes with flying colors but struggled in controlling his temper during combat and at the shooting range.His graduation graduation assignment was even delayed because of it. 

Yermalov was always content with guests to his lessons and seemed pleased to include Alex to even out the numbers when pairing off for practice. 

Now, the man in question was standing across from Alex, locking eyes with him in clear contempt. 

Respectful to the teachings, they both diligently worked through the instruction, focusing on technique and conditioning. However, the lesson ended with sparring and Yaxley did not hesitate to take up the opportunity. 

Soon they were deep into combat and Alex focused more on defense. His movements were swift and smooth, almost teasing as Yaxley attacked vigorously. 

With Alex dodging blow after blow, Yaxley paused choosing to take up a more defensive position and they simply stood at an impasse. 

Glancing behind Yaxley, his attention was drawn to noticing one of his guards accepting a phone call and talking into the receiver. 

He almost didn’t notice Yaxley addressing him. “Rumor has it you were an MI6 bitch before Gregorovich picked you up like a stray.” Alex returned his attention to the man and narrowed his gaze. Yaxley was taunting him, that much he gathered, but why?

“Did your daddy pay to have your spy dreams come true?” 

Alex dodged a few more haphazard blows before swiftly pinning Yaxley to the mats. 

“Or perhaps you just fit Gregorovich’s tastes nice enough,” the man said in a derisive tone just loud enough for Alex to hear. 

Alex released his hold and got to his feet; he could tolerate personal jibes but to make such a suggestion of Yassen’s character was taking things too far. 

Yaxley leveraged himself to his feet just in time to take a hit to his chest. 

Another series of hits swiftly followed crushing the man’s spleen, bruising a lower rib, and cracking his knee cap. 

The man cried out and crashed down hard on the mats as the rest of the class stood around watching curiously. Yermalov stopped to watch impassively as well. 

Alex was hardly winded by the actions—a true testament to how hard he worked getting back in shape lately—and stalked up to the man laying winded and groaning in pain in a heap on the mats. 

“I’m sure Mr. Gregorovich has some thoughts of his own about your opinion of my station, but I don’t think he’d appreciate having his time wasted,” Alex said cooly looking down at the scowling man. 

His eye caught a glint of metal and he was moving before his brain processed the item. A knife embedded in mat where his foot had been. 

Alex kicked Yaxley square in the face feeling the crunch of his nose as his fist grabbed at Alex’s shirt. 

Before he realized what he was doing, he grabbed Yaxley’s free arm, twisting and pinning it along the mat before prying off the the man’s hold on him and pinned it to the mat with a knife through he palm. 

“Alex!” Several voices spoke up at once, heard barely over the howling of the large man pinned to the mats. Oneexclamation was from d’Arc who rushed over. The other was from Marcus who helped Alex to his feet. 

At some point d’Arc had come by and decided now to intervene; Yermalov had approached as well. 

“I think it’s best to discontinue Yaxley’s education, “Yermalov said flatly. “Crux may have use of him.”

D’Arc may have been the head of the school but he was wise enough to accept advice from his instructors and nodded. “Yes, perhaps that is best.” 

He had no idea when Marcus arrived. Alex felt detached from the scene. His mind refusing to process the last few minutes of the spar.

“Alex? _Orion_ ,” Marcus must’ve lead him out of the dojo and off to the edge of the school as he shook him lightly by his shoulders to get his attention. “Are you hurt?”

He stared at Marcus blankly but responded by shaking his head. Yaxley hadn’t even landed a single blow. Alex was simply confused, his mind foggy. 

“Alex, hey.” At the softened tone, Alex snapped from his reverie. 

“Hi, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” Alex felt ashamed.

“For that?” Marcus scoffed. “That asshole deserved it. Though I don’t remember medical clearing you for that kind of activity yet.” 

Alex laughed tightly, starting to feel more like himself again. “I was ‘slowly reintroducing rigorous activity’. Didn’t you notice?”

“Yes, boss. Whatever you say.” Marcus said with a light smile. 

“You clearly haven’t been checking your phone. I had to call Rogers to track you down but Yassen has confirmed a date.” 

That got Alex’s attention. “When?”

“May 25th,” Marcus said lowly to prevent eavesdroppers. 

The anniversary of his parent’s death. There was no coincidence. Leave it to Yassen to remember the date. Alex had been so young at the time, it had hardly been of consequence. 

Operations marking an anniversary of a distinguished day or event were always riskier than simply selecting any random day. 

If Yassen believed he would be suitable for the added challenge, he wouldn’t disappoint. 

Also, if he passed his assessment on Thursday like he expected, he would be cleared by medical almost two weeks in advance of the operation. Yassen was taking no chances with his health. He made a face, thinking of all those days he diligently ingested every gross high-nutrient doctor-recommended meal and pushed through exercise after exercise to get his system back in shape in record time. Yassen probably had the date picked out weeks ago. 

“Does that date mean something?” Marcus had been dutifully observing Alex through his internal monologue. 

“Yes,” Alex admitted with a breezy laugh, smiling outwardly. “Which means we’ll have to be extra careful. They may suspect it.”

“Alright then.” Marcus, picking up on Alex’s good mood with a light chuckle as well. “Have you eaten yet?”

Alex rolled his eyes at the comment. “No,” he said with faux-derisiveness. 

“Well, neither have I. Come on, let’s get some food and we’ll run through the op again.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my. We’re almost there.  
> I may go back to write about that time in-between at a later point but the next chapter will be Alex vs Blunt.
> 
> Also, because I’m pedantic...  
> based on AR Wiki, Alex’s birthday is listed as February 13th though his parents’ dying was only generally listed as sometimes in May so I picked a date: May 25th. 
> 
> I am not a doctor but I’d estimate from the Hurghada Incident he had  
> \- a grade 4 concussion...~3-4 weeks of recovery  
> \- bruised/cracked ribs...~6 weeks of recovery  
> \- a variety of muscle strains...~12 weeks of recovery  
> \- leg damage...3-6 weeks of recovery  
> \- sprained ankle (lol)...1-3 weeks of recovery  
> Three months seemed reasonable considering all these injuries compounded and Yassen’s chosen doctors are directing his care. 
> 
> The info is from a few med websites but mostly from first-hand experience. I’ve rocked just about every one of these injuries at one point and that’s about how long it took. LOL
> 
> As always, do enjoy. 
> 
> \- AV


	9. Interlude II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are moments when I find my own writing insufficient and this was one of them. To amend this...a second interlude. So I white-lied things a bit. Oops, sorry.  
> However, to uphold my promise, the long awaited Blunt vs Alex will be posted shortly as well. - AV

Yassen sat at his desk reviewing the plans for Blunt’s extraction, recognizing that some things still did not add up. 

Dr. Three approached him to discuss Nile handling Alan Blunt and MI6 was a factor he hadn’t originally considered. The man had always been a proponent for Alex handling his own matters himself. 

Offering the suggestion in front of Alex, seemed to only taunt him, challenge him. 

The doctor was back to his manipulations. Whether he was taking advantage of an opportunity or he had created the opportunity, Yassen could not tell. 

Yassen thought back to how close Alex came to dying in Hurghada. If Dr. Three had arranged for such an event, Yassen would handle him personally. 

He did not take pleasure in torture and interrogation, rather relying on it for necessity, but for Dr. Three he would make an exception. 

He had removed Dr. Yu for targeting Alex and while he made an exception with Dr. Three’s previous indiscretion to gain his favor with the reconstruction of Scorpia, the man’s influence had become more of a courtesy than necessity. 

However, Orion’s growing success had not gone unnoticed by MI6 and other organizations. 

It was quite likely that his contacts in Qena had not maintained an equivalent level of discretion when requesting Scorpia’s assistance. 

Several members at the conference also had left before the excursion into town. They were thoroughly vetted but no intel is 100% accurate, particularly when delegating the responsibility to a selected team. 

His phone rang and the ID read “Rogers,” Alex’s presently assigned security team’s POC. 

He answered after the second ring, not allowing his mind to consider what new trouble his second-in-command has caused. “Report,” he said sharply. He did not like being disturbed when he was not needed and Rogers was—regrettably—new to Alex’s security detail. 

“Sir, there was an incident I thought it best to make you aware of,” Rogers said quickly. 

“Yes?” He asked coldly in tone likely construing boredom. He looked forward to when Alex could have Marcus back leading his security detail. Rogers was...temporary. Clearing Marcus for active duty was likely a matter of technicality among the medical staff and it seemed requesting the expedition of that process now neared the top of his to-do list. 

“He attended the hand-to-hand combat lecture this morning and was sparring with a student named Jon Yaxley. It got out of hand—“

“Orion’s status,” he demanded evenly, irritated that he recalled no medical paperwork clearing Alex for such an activity. 

“Unharmed, physically that is. He stabbed the student and Orion is now non-responsive.”

That caught his attention. “Is he still there?” 

“No Marcus took him outside and is trying to talk to him.”

“Notify Dr. Steiner that he will be seeing Orion this afternoon.”

“Oh! He seems to be back to himself,” Rogers updated dutifully. 

“Dr. Steiner. See to it,” he stated flatly before ending the call and dialing d’Arc. 

****

When Alex strolled into the mess hall with Marcus, he felt more of a pariah than ever. The students stopped their chatter and stared at him in fear while the staff likely overheard the student’s chatter and looked at him coldly, or in d’Arc’s case, sympathy. 

Just as d’Arc started eating, Alex saw him answer a phone call and step out. 

“How about we grab food to go?” Marcus suggested helpfully. 

“Sounds good to me.”

***

Alex opened his door and let Marcus in first, forgetting the state he had left his room in. 

“Alex, are you okay?” Marcus said hesitantly, motioning to the walls, the bed and the floor, “because this doesn’t look ‘okay.’”

Alex kicked some papers into piles on the floor and cleaned off his couch. 

“I’ve just been been a little preoccupied lately,” Alex said, embarrassed. His room was never particularly organized but this was embarrassing, even Alex recognized that. 

“You looked downright terrifying in that dojo. For a moment, I thought you would kill him.” 

Alex’s appetite disappeared real quick. 

“I don’t know. One minute we were sparring and he was spewing the dumbest insults at me and the next I drove a knife into his hand.” Alex fidgeted with the wrapper of his sandwich. 

“For one, you missed the part where he tried to stab you with that knife so it’s not likely you did anything wrong,” Marcus said, taking a bite of his own sandwich. 

“Perhaps a tad excessive for you but not unwarranted. I doubt Yassen would’ve let him live at all.”

“Point,” Alex conceded, hoping to spur back his appetite by taking a small bite himself. It was fruitless when the sandwich tasted like ash but he took another bite anyway. 

“You seemed alright when we ran into you in the mess hall the other week but considering the state of things—“ he motioned around the room, “—I think it’s safe to say you might not be as ‘alright’ as you seem. If you need to talk about anything, just ask.”

Alex took another glance at the walls and cringed. “Can you handle then replacements? I’d rather not deal with that at all.”

Marcus’s expression softened. “Of course. I think I could manage to pick decent replacements. The criteria necessary is easy to narrow down: someone who takes orders and is diligent, skilled, patient; someone mentally prepared to take on all the crap you get dealt in life; and someone quick on their feet and solves problems because lord knows you also get stuck in the thick of it.”

Alex laughed, feigning hurt. “Hey, not all of it was my fault.”

“Shooting Kurst and taking a bullet to the chest?” Marcus shot back facetiously. 

“Hey, I didn’t have a choice there. They had Jack.”

Marcus shook his head, still laughing lightly at the memory. “Yassen was downright scary that day. I’ll never forget it.” 

Softening his tone and ruffling Alex hair, he assured, “Whatever is going on in that head of yours, you’ll sort it out, and rebuilding Sagitta is something I’ll sort out.”

Alex had never been so grateful to have Marcus. 

As they were finishing lunch, Marcus’s phone vibrated with an incoming call. 

“Oh boy,” he commented as he glanced at the ID. 

“Sir,” he addressed, respectfully. After a moment, “Yes, he still is with me.”

Marcus then offered the phone to Alex, “It’s for you.”

Of course Yassen would know, he reasoned. 

“Sir,” he said into the receiver. 

“Alex, your medical follow-up has been advanced to this afternoon. If they do not deem you fit, there will be consequences for this morning’s unauthorized activity. 

“As for the student, he has been expelled for his actions.”

He should’ve known Yassen would disapprove more of his disregard for medical advice than for stabbing a student. 

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

“Dr. Steiner will be seeing you personally this afternoon for your mental health follow-up assessment. Be thorough.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Now, Marcus.”

Alex handed the phone back quickly and Yassen was addressing him just as he held it up to his ear. 

“Yes, sir,” he said with a note of finality before hanging up. 

Alex gave him a questioning look. 

“Well, looks like we’re both headed to medical for evals. Mine got expedited upon Rogers’ dismissal. Looks like your stuck with me for a while longer.”

***

Alex passed his physical assessment with flying colors alongside Marcus, before he found himself at the door of Dr. Steiner. 

Before Alex could knock, the door was opened by the calm and almost irritatingly aloof man. 

“Alex, it’s good to see you,” he said clear of intonation that already had Alex second-guessing. Alex doubted the man honestly wanted him added to his schedule so last-minute? 

“Hi,” he said self-consciously. 

“Come in and sit down. Let’s get started. I have caught up reading much about what has happened through the eyes of your other medical professionals but I would much prefer to hear it from you. Your employer has ensured I have ample time so please, Alex. How have you been?”

Of course Yassen would book the poor man for longer than the usual hour or two. This was not how Alex intended on spending his day. 

He was all ready to say ‘alright’ but instead, offered the most honest answer he could muster, even if it sounded mildly sarcastic:“Recovering.” He wanted to get out of here quickly. 

“Honesty is a good start, Alex,” Dr. Steiner said calmly. “A lot has happened. I believe you celebrated a birthday recently, how do you feel about that?”

Alex choked out a dark laugh. “Glad I only turn 18 once. I doubt I’d live through another birthday like that.”

That didn’t come out right, he realized just after he was finished and he looked to Dr. Steiner who gave nothing away. 

“Do you think about dying often, Alex?”

Alex was relieved the man didn’t start on about him having suicidal tendencies. It was pretty safe to say through to his chosen career objective that if he wanted to off himself, he’d have done it already. Instead, he was diligently reforming a terrorist organization. 

“It was my fifth assassination attempt. I doubt many can say someone put in the effort to drop a house on them.”

Dr. Steiner further didn’t comment on his candor and instead pressed on. “And you keep track of these attempts?”

Alex bit his lip, before admitting, “Yes. At least the ones I become aware of.”

That lead to the writing of a few more notes in the doctor’s notepad. 

“What do you remember in Hurghada?”

Alex explained the conference, the tour though town, the sniper shot, his last few moments with Adams, and then waking up. 

Dr. Steiner was a good listener, nodding and jotting small notes down, but did interrupt occasionally to ask questions. 

“Have you experienced discomfort waking up alone since the incident?” 

Alex took a moment to think about this. “With the new security arrangements, I’m not alone often,” he said jokingly.

“Interesting. What do you mean by that?”

“Yassen stayed with me after the incident, Jack stayed for a few nights too. I did have some trouble sleeping for a bit when it was just me but Hill, Marcus, and other key members of security checked on me frequently enough.”

Dr. Steiner took some time to jot down notes from this admission. 

Finally his impatience won out, “What are you getting from all of this?” 

“Are you self-conscious of needing the company of others? Desiring the company of other is rather normal for someone your age and personality type.”

Alex said too quickly, “No,” then rethought his answer. “I don’t know. I don’t want to seem...”

“Weak?” Dr. Steiner supplied. “You hold value in other individuals’ perceptions of you. But even you recognize you can’t control that.”

He paused to jot down a few notes before continuing, “Having attachments is not a weakness but does come with additional risks. Risks can be mitigated. Teenagers your age often start dating, developing romantic interests to the people closest to them. Have you considered this?”

Alex audibly laughed at this, stressed mildly by this diversion of the conversation. “And what? Line up yet another person to get murdered on my behalf? Yeah, no thanks.” 

“Someone already in your line of work does seem more fitting, does it not?”

“Not if they’re twice my age.”

“No?”

The conversation paused at this uncomfortable question. 

Dr. Steiner redirected the discussion back to Hurghada before he could up with a better answer. “What happened after you woke up alone?”

“I wasn’t awake for long, but when I woke the second time, Yassen was there. He’d never let me die on his watch.” He chuckled darkly at his own joke. 

He explained about the beam, waking up at the hospital, his first few nights back in Malagosto, his birthday cupcake.

His brain felt thoroughly picked apart by the time he got to the part about today’s incident. 

“You don’t remember the student taking out the knife?”

“Yes, I mean no. It’s just that it’s....I don’t know. It’s blurry. I didn’t mean to do that to him. Disarming him was more than enough.”

“It sounds like that student was not going to yield willingly. Your actions prevented any further attack.” 

Sure. Only a Scorpia therapist would make stabbing a person sound like a good choice. 

“So, what’s your verdict, Doc?”

He didn’t want to go looking in files for the real answer and would accept anything the man had to offer. 

“You are doing your best in a challenging situation. You have taken on far more responsibility than most individuals your age and have managed accordingly.”

Alex really wanted to take it as a compliment. It sounded like a compliment but having it be called ‘his best’ and comparing him to others ‘his age’ and saying he has ‘managed accordingly’ hinted at a deeper meaning. 

“And as for my follow-up evaluation?” 

“My notes will be reviewed by other medical professional before the decision is made but as far as I’m concerned, you are healthy.”

“Great,” Alex said, trying not to let it sound as sarcastic as he felt about the whole matter. 

“You aren’t alone here, Alex. I do hope you visit again before you are directed to, that is. Have a good evening, Alex.”

Evening? Ugh. 

Alex offered a weary, “good night,” before stepped out of the office.

Marcus was seated in an armchair waiting outside. “You good?” he asked with a sympathetic look. 

“Yeah, I think so...just tired.”

They strolled back to his room in companionable silence. 

Following dinner, he received confirmation that he was cleared for active duty. Over the next week, the remaining members of team Sagitta were evaluated, approved, and agreed to continue their service alongside Alex.

Now all they had to do was wait. 


	10. A Penny for Your Thoughts

Alex strolled in the front door of the bank in disguise nearing the end of the workday. He was hardly looked at twice as he ascended the stairs and entered the familiar office. It was embarrassing how poor security they had at this site. No wonder his parents and uncle died under their ‘care’. It was a marvel he himself never got shot and killed at their doorstep while working for them.

He looked disdainfully at the familiar chair he sat in all those years ago every time they rallied him for a mission or dished out their latest bullshit blackmail attempt.

Instead, Alex took Blunt’s seat, removing the disguise, and even went so far as to put his feet up on his desk.

As the time ticked on, the anticipation increased. Darker and darker thoughts of his experiences in this office nagged at his subconscious.

He found a file sitting on Blunt’s desk documenting the Hurghada Incident and its aftermath, almost mockingly. While most pictures of the collapsed building were blurred and taken at a distance, Alex’s memories filled in the blanks about what had taken place there. In one photo, he could see the shadow of Marcus’ figure by the entrance looking down on the devastation below. Another was of the dead generals that had lead the tour. The last must’ve been taken several days after the event because the site was empty and all that remained was the piles of debris. 

By the time he heard of any approaching individuals, Orion had fully taken over his disposition and he looked forward to showing Alan Blunt exactly what he created when he blackmailed him into serving as a teenage spy for MI6. He almost wished he didn’t have to use tranquilizers on the man. Killing Alan Blunt would be most satisfying. Preventing that man from ruining the lives of anymore children seemed more charitable service than murder.

The door opened and a little primary school-aged girl with pigtails sprinted in and hopped into one of the chairs.

“Pappy!” She called out chipperly. “Who is this?!” Before waiting on a response, she chirped up, “Hi mister! I’m Penny. What’s your name?”

Alex froze and could hear chatter on the comms in his silence.

Marcus could be heard above the rest, ‘What is that, his kid?! God damnit . What a piece of—’.

“Hi Penny,” he said slowly with an easygoing tone. The Orion persona sliding back into place. “I’m an old friend of your Pappy. Could you get him for me?”

“Sure mister!” She hopped to her feet. “You know, you sure look like the little boy in the picture Pappy keeps on his fridge back home.” Before he could process what she said, she skipped out the door.

The door opened a few moments later with steady precision. Blunt walked in, emotionless. Typical .

As Orion was occupying his desk chair, he sat down in one the chairs Orion motioned to, therein bringing this almost tragic tale full circle as it was the precise chair he sat in when the man had explained to him his new role in MI6 following Ian’s death.

Orion pulled the gun from his hip and lined it up with Blunt’s head, finger on the trigger.

Orion scoffed, “Good afternoon, Alan.

You should know that security here could use a few upgrades or have you fallen so far as to rely on another kid for the protection of MI6?”

“It’s good to see you, Alex and no, my niece wanted to visit and I couldn’t say no,” he said simply as if it was some normal bring-you-kid-to-work-day situation.

“You work with some unseemly people, Alan. It’s not exactly the right environment to bring a kid into. Do you intend to use her like you used me? Or would that be taking things too far?”

Pops of sound could be heard through his comms. Sagitta was clearing out MI6’s security, snipers, and stray agents in and around the building.

“No, but when her parents died and I gained custody, I wanted to do for her what I couldn’t do for you.”

Orion’s eyes registered the remark but quickly hardened. “Let’s not lie to each other, Alan.”

“All clear,” he hear Marcus say through comms.

Alex fired without a moment of hesitation and Blunt flinched, pulling the injector out of his neck.

Though, the tranquilizer was already delivering the full dose of the med into his blood stream and it was fast-acting, slumping him in his seat.

“Target hit. Acquisition team is a go.”

Busting through the door came Ivey and Marcus. They packaged up Blunt and Orion lead them out the building.

Two stray agents barreling up from the basement level with their weapons raised hesitating seeing the teenagerapproaching. The woman managed a single shot but it didn’t hit.Orion killed them with swift precision before they continued on their way out.

Armored vans waiting outside collected them and Orion ensuring his target never left his sight.

They boarded the private jet with their cargo and were flying back to Abu Dhabi immediately. He could feel Shale and Marcus’s eyes on him curiously, but he ignored them both.

They were successful thus far but it was not over yet. He had still yet to deliver the target. Ivey monitored the target’s vitals as other members took shifts sleeping on the flight back.

Alex was seated towards the center of the jet where he could comfortably monitor the target and be quick to intervene if the need should arise.

Adrenaline still coursed through his veins and he refused to even consider sleep as an option until they returned to Malagosto.

Instead, he held himself in a similar regard to Yassenwhen he was waiting for something to happen: seemingly relaxed to those he didn’t know him, and ready to spring into action if needed.

His attention was locked on their bound and concealed cargo.

He could hear the familiar gate of Shale approaching carefully from behind. “Do you want anything to drink?”

Without breaking eye contact from his target, he gave a quick head shake.

Soon enough, they were exiting the jet and loaded into vans; Orion sat where the target would be at his feet.

Finally, pulling into Malagosto, he stuck around long enough to see the target be delivered to Crux and without breaking stride, continued to his suite.

Cracks in his Orion persona fissured and Alex open his suite door with trembling hands to find Yassen seated on the couch inside.

Closing and locking the door behind him, Alex stood at attention while Yassen looked him over carefully a moment until he promptly stumbled into the bathroom, fell to his knees and threw up the entire contents of his stomach in the toilet.

He felt like he was in a daze, scrubbing out the blood that had soaked through his sleeve and dried on his hands. The splatter from the two agents he passed on his way out speckled his shirt.

He ignored it in favor of washing the blood and grime off his face. He efficiently scrubbing, his mind clouded over and instead of lingering on what he’d done, it focused on the fact that it still was not yet over. Blunt was captured, but he was alive. He needed information and he would ensure Blunt would give it to him.

Stepping out of the bathroom, he had almost forgotten Yassen was there, but he could not be weak. Not now. His job was not finished yet.

Yassen seemed to regard him curiously as he handed him a clean shirt.

Alex took his brusquely, stripped the blood-soaked one and pulled on the new in a single fluid motion. That is, until Yassen snatched his forearm and held it out. Blood caked where a 20cm graze stretched up his left forearm. 

A superficial wound, his mind supplied easily. No, he wouldn’t be wasting his time fretting over it.

He tried to pull his arm out of Yassen’s grasp but the man only tightened his grip and narrowed his gaze.

“Sit. Blunt can wait.”

He was not happy with the order but he sat stiffly on the end of the bed.

Emotions that typically flooded Alex’s mind and showed on his face remained suppressed, controlled, similar to how his mind worked when lining up a sniper shot.

His mind narrowed to the objective and processed nothing else. Not even Yassen returning and scrubbing antiseptic into the wound brought him out of his stupor.

If Alex had felt more himself, he may have made a joke or flinch at the sting of antiseptic, but the mission was ongoing and Orion had full control of his subconscious.

“No stitches, just keep it clean,” Yassen stated flatly, securing gauze to his forearm before looking up and observing Alex carefully.

The teenager only nodded in affirmation and remained impassive and quiet.

“Report.”

Alex concisely recited the status report on the extraction, though he doubted Yassen wasn’t well-appraised of every aspect of the operation as it happened.

And yet, at the end, Yassen’s eyes softened. “Have you eaten?” It would hardly a question and his silence was telling.

“Come. We will eat, sleep, then address Blunt in the morning.”

Yassen set the first aid supplies on his nightstand next to Alex’s gift from Dr. Three and they left for the mess hall.

The teen followed obediently without further word and remained that way for the rest of the night.

Returning to his room, he had no desire to sleep. Instead, he began drafting his report of Blunt’s capture and checking up on other active assignments.

Yassen’s review of the new Scorpus team showed subaverage remarks and the call for further training.

Further reading was interrupted by his door opening and closing.

“You have not slept,” Yassen commented drily, stepping in with catlike movements.

Finally taken note of the time, he had been drafted and reviewing documents until 2AM.

“There were more pressing matters.” Where Alex might’ve intoned this comment cheekily, it instead sounded cold, practical; Yassen should be pleased with his initiative and tenacity.

Instead—while Yassen had put up with his disregard for treating his open wound and his silence at dinner—he vehemently disapproved.

“Unacceptable.”

The teenager narrowed his eyes at the harsh criticism. “I am not tired,” he remarked impassively.

“That can be rectified. Stand to attention. Unarmed,” Yassen ordered tersely.

He closed the laptop and stood at attention while Yassen took a moment to position the couch closer to the wall.

Yassen waited for Orion to make the first move and it began. Lashing out and countering attacks quickly became a fluid dance between the two of near-equal skill. Orion’s movements were sharp and hit hard but batted away and deflected by Yassen. Yassen found quickly that Alex in this state seemed to show tremendous improvement to his skill and focus. Landing hits on the teen had not come easily and grazes hardly fazed him. Orion reacted well to his feint and countered just as quickly.

Yassen was warned about Alex’s psychological needs. The balance between Orion’s refined skill and Alex’s compassion could leave him unstable.

To save the teen, he had trained in Orion to keep him alive and allowed the backtalk, the morality, and the indulgences to keep Alex intact as well.

He could’ve had the perfect weapon. He could’ve crushed the boy’s moral compass and humanity, however, he didn’t need a weapon. He needed Alex. Scorpia would be stronger for it.

Now, the scales were tipped too far in Orion’s favor for Yassen’s tastes. Neuroimaging in Alex’s assessment showed the precursor signs of a dissociative disorder, though practical assessment concluded the effects to be negligible as he similarly expressed the early signs of ADHD, more common in his age group. Still, the sign were still there. Considering Alex’s current condition, he would be having a stern conversation regarding Dr. Steiner’s conclusion later. Perhaps Alex was unfit for duty; he would assess this himself in the morning. 

It was unfair, but necessary to keep this from carrying on any longer. Yassen lashed out, grabbing Orion’s bandaged forearm and twisted causing the teen to stutter in his actions. Yassen launched several more hits before landing a hard punch to the zygomatic bone, knocking Orion unconscious.

Alex’s limp form was splayed over the floor haphazardly. Yassen made a mental note to arrange Alex a medical assessment in the morning and perhaps another therapy appointment later on, preferably with a new doctor. He had no use for Orion without Alex.

Lifting Alex and setting him back on his bed, he pulled off the boy’s shoes, settled a blanket over him, and left.

***

Alex woke the next morning bruised and with a wicked headache. He thought about last night, remembered the graze on his arm, eating dinner, getting some work done, then...nothing.

Further thought on the memory lapse was interrupted by a knock at the door and Yassen letting himself in. Alex figured his newly appointed guards had been listening in on his room for when he woke. Ugh. Creeps! The whole lot of them.

Yassen seemed pleased he was still lying in bed, disheveled; Alex’s irritation showed clearly on his face. It seemed last night’s issue resolved itself. 

“Food will be delivered shortly. Once you are up, dressed, and have eaten, Dr. Javarti is expecting a visit from you in medical. Also, Crux is awaiting your orders regarding Blunt’s interrogation. It is recommended you oversee it if yourself if you’re not conducting it.”

Alex only nodded, glancing at the syringe and serum from Dr. Three. Ugh! The thought of torturing anyone still brought bile to his throat.

Yassen was unusually chatty this morning, Alex mentally noted as the man continued, “In upholding our agreement on disclosure, Tom has missed a check-in with his detail.However, his support team has informed us that check-ins where he is presently stationed for instruction pose challenges in communication. While the information should be noted, the circumstance is not dire.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Yassen narrowed his gaze and looked him over once more—skeptically observing him closely. Stepping closer to Alex, Yassen tilted Alex’s chin up until light geared in his eyes. When he seemed satisfied, he took his leave.

Alex didn’t understand it but with the upcoming interrogation, Alex brushed off Yassen’s usual behavior aside.

Aside from the headache and lingering sore muscles, Alex felt good. He changed into the attire that made him look like the walking advertisement for Scorpia—he thought, if Blunt could use mind games, so could he!—and made his way to the infirmary.

“Alex, good to see you doing better. You likely hardly noticed but the implant was removed after your previous surgeries. Alex reached back and could feel a fresh scar there. No, he hadn’t noticed.

“I would like to put our new one in.” She did a quick triage of his condition: testing the reaction in his pupils, he blood pressure, heart rate, etc.

“Uh, sure.” The first one hadn’t caused any adverse reactions so there wasn’t much reach to mind being a guinea pig again.

It went in much faster than the first—a fast he rather resented when he realized he couldn’t dally any longer and had to head to go oversee Blunt’s interrogation room.

Walking over to Dr. Three’s domain, he thought about how quickly Yassen had approved of him delegating the interrogation to Crux—he knew one day he’d have to do one himself—but thankfully today wasn’t that day and he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Too soon he found himself at the door.

He hated even being in attendance for the ordeal but Alex understood the necessity of it. He needed to be present to ensure the correctness in the information extracted.

This morning he had also subconsciously pocketed Dr. Three’s birthday gift—the syringe and vial of nerve agent—though he couldn’t imagine needing it; Crux was always very thorough.

It might’ve been wishful thinking but perhaps he could scrape by without having to participate in any of it at all.

Yassen appeared behind him to observe as well. He felt a little better knowing he wasn’t handling this alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?  
> \- AV


	11. There’s No Greater Misfortune than Dying Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: There are descriptions of torture in this chapter.

Walking into the observation room of the singularly occupied cell, Blunt was seated with his feet bare and body secured, blindfolded, and gagged. 

If not for the occasional adjust in his position, and the uneven breathing, Blunt hardly seem conscious. Crux though moved with practiced ease and right now, she was disinfecting her tools. Nothing would be left to chance. And right now, all Blunt’s senses were blocked off except his hearing of the scrape of metal against metal, a clear intimidation tactic. 

While this was closed off to the other staff and students as an official matter, Alex couldn’t help but notice the one man who always reveled in such events was absent. 

Perhaps Dr. Three was enjoying his retirement—Yaxley’s expulsion put him as a prime subject in furthering the man’s research. 

He hadn’t been seen much around Malagosto these last few weeks either. Considering the man’s plans to send Nile were repudiated, perhaps he was also pettily distancing himself from the operation should it fail.

Alex considered also his initial suspicions about him and the incident in Hurghada, though quickly brushed it aside. Even thinking about it boiled his blood. He lost men in Hurghada. Good men. Friends, even. 

If Dr. Three was the mastermind behind this, Yassen would be the least of his concerns though he knew Yassen would have a score to settle with the man himself.

The sound of the bag pulled off Blunt’s head focused his attention on the present. Crux removed his gag as well. 

Alex watched the man’s gaze stop to adjust to the lighting before look at Crux with a scowl. “Where is Alex Rider?”

She backhanded him hard, his lip cut open and started to dribble blood. 

“I will be asking questions and you will be answering them. Don’t forget your place,” she reprimanded harshly. 

Instead, he spit in her direction. She grabbed his chin with her sharp nails digging in his skin and started with a shallow cut to his cheek. From her position behind him, she spoke to him bitterly in ear, “Don’t forget. I can make this fast or slow just know that I will have my answers.”

Blunt seemed to relax at this and she released him. 

“Good,” she acknowledged. “Now state your name and age.” 

“Alex Rider,” he said evenly. 

“Wrong,” she said quickly, drawing two shallow cuts into his forearms. 

“Alex Rider, you are there watching, aren’t you?” he said ignoring Crux and staring directly at the one way glass. 

“You must pay attention,” Crux said venomously and offered matching cuts into his opposite forearm. “Your name. Your age. I will not repeat myself again.”

Alex looked on but didn’t rise to the bait. He did sense some movement behind him and noticed Yassen had left swiftly. Any comfort he thought he had facing this ordeal left him feeling a bit deserted. 

“Alex Rider, aged 14, scaled the bank walls and broke into my office all to find out the truth about his uncle—”

Crux dug her knife in deeper, widening the initial incision and he broke off his recitation to gasp in pain. 

After pausing to catch his breath he continued, “Alex Rider who age 14 attended a SAS training camp to take on Sayle and avenge his uncle’s untimely death.” 

Crux gouged into another cut along his forearm and started in on his fingertips. “Enough!” 

She tore out some hair with her unyielding grip on his head and wrapped her fingers around his throat, cutting off his air supply. 

Alex stiffly watched from the other side of the glass and after picking at hangnails on his fingers till they bled, he shoved his hand in his pocket. 

He fingers wrapped around a long, cylindrical object—the syringe, he recalled with startlingly clarity. He had the serum as well. He considered giving it to Crux before she started but something kept him from doing so. It had been his gift from Dr. Three after all. 

Crux spoke low and dangerously. “The next words out of your mouth will be what I want to hear or we can test how well your blood clots in your advanced age. Now, let’s get to the point: who gave you information on Hurghada?”

Releasing him, he coughed hard, gasping for breath. 

Blunt spoke so quickly, his words jumbled somewhat together. “Ian would be ashamed to see what became of all his hard work and you were my biggest disappointment.” 

She shoved the gag roughly back into his mouth as she carved even patterns into his arms and legs. 

“I love people who are difficult. It means I get to spend more time with them and truly you’ve made my day,” Crux said seductively. 

Alex no longer had any reservations as he watched Crux work. Blunt’s words lingered in his head. He had no right to lecture him about Ian. 

Blunt was pulling against his ties, slumped over when she was finished but still conscious and she pulled out the gag. 

“Who gave you information about Hurghada?” She spoke slowly, deliberately enunciating each syllable. 

Blunt breathily spoke condescendingly, “It would seem unbefitting of a leader and Malagosto graduate not to be handling these matters yourself, Alex. Such cowardice hiding behind your underlings.”

Crux put in a few well-placed hits into pressure points. 

Alex had had to witness interrogations previously but none had been so personal and Alex felt his mind slip into a rather cold and calculating subconscious. 

Before Alex realized what he was doing, Orion stepped into the room. 

“I thought we agreed not to lie to each other,” Orion said in a direct tone. 

Crux stiffened at the sound of his voice, surprised at his intervention. 

Still, he outranked her and she stepped aside respectfully. “Ian would not be so forgiving at your exploitations of me, your blackmail, and your carelessness. It makes me wonder if Ian also died from such carelessness.”

Blunt scowled but didn’t defend himself. Instead he asked pointedly, “How is that housekeeper of yours, Alex? She will die young. Life expectancies of people in your life and your line of work are rather short.” 

Orion struck out at Blunt’s midsection and grabbed his neck, tilting his chair back on the back two legs. If not for the cuffs on his arms and the legs of the chair linked with chains to the floor, the chair would have surely have toppled. 

Orion applied further pressure, letting Blunt’s arms take the strain. 

“Using her as blackmail wasn’t smart, Alan, and using me to solve your problems, even less so.” 

Crux observed curiously from the side but did not leave. Merely remained available to assist, her tools remaining in arms reach of Orion. 

“Are you enjoying the blood money you get solving problems with Scorpia?” 

Orion retorted smoothly, “At least they offered me a choice.”

Orion let Blunt’s chair snap forward, all four legs returning to the floor at the expense of whiplash for Blunt’s face and neck. Blunt took a few moments to consider something. “You’ll never be them. You’re just a little boy living in his dead father’s shadow.” Orion heard enough. He snatched a tool at random from the gray and pinned Blunt’s hand to the wooden chair with the long serrated knife of Crux’s toolkit. Without a beat of hesitation, Blunt’s second hand was pinned by a second knife as well. 

“ Y OU made me into this. You repeatedly ripped me from my life,” he said cooly, accenting his words by tearing each knife out and letting them clang carelessly on the floor of the cell. His blood flowed freely but Blunt was bracing against the pain. 

Orion grasped another knife off the kit and held it in front of him. 

Now breathing heavily, Blunt grimaced, “You do realize they killed Ian. They’re trying to kill you too. Almost succeeded but it seems my MI6 agents lack the refinement of Scorpia operatives.”

Orion paused. Thinking through what Blunt had said. No, it wasn’t possible. 

“And you’re suggesting your information came from within Scorpia?”

Alex had struggled to pass the written assessment to his interrogation course in school, yet Orion remembered the lessons with startling clarity.He sliced delicately through the radial nerve in each thumb before waiting for the man’s response. 

Blunt had lost a considerable amount of blood and the man had clearly never been properly trained in RTI for some time, but he gritted out, “It was rather unusual to be visited by an old schoolteacher at my office. Even moreso when the guards of my security all willingly shot and killed themselves upon his departure.”

Dr. Three.

“I figured you’d come to get me. He figured that too. Tell me, how is Tom? How is Jack? You should keep better track of your friends, Alex, though even more, do keep better track of your enemies.”

Alex heard enough and his mind went blank. 

He grabbed and drove a metal pike into Blunt’s shoulder, centimeters above the man’s heart, but off center so as to miss any major arteries. 

“You will inform me of their location,” Orion said with cold certainty.

In precise movements, he followed the guidelines from his RTI course and in the next 2 minutes, Blunt cursed him and cracked under the pain. He gave him Tom’s location with precise directions for his retrieval before admitting he didn’t know about Jack. Dr. Three had only informed him that he’d address her relocation himself. 

Satisfied with Blunt’s answer, Orion injected the nerve agent into the man’s thigh, depositing the empty bottle on the tray, and strode out of the room without a second thought. 

Marcus must’ve come in at some point and was just outside the interrogation room looking stiff and pale. 

Seeing him reminded Orion of Adams of all the members who died at the sadistic whim of Dr. Three so he composed himself, a plan forming in his head. 

“Relay to Azov that they will be collecting Tom Harris from London and locate any remaining Cepheus members. Report to Mr. Gregorovich when it is done. I have other matters to address myself.”

Marcus startled out of his stupor. “Alex, I don’t think—“ He stopped when he saw Orion’s eyes narrow in warning. “Yes, sir.” 

He didn’t linger any longer, walking out the door at a measured pace, covered in blood splatter, with all the information he needed regarding Dr. Three’s deception, Tom’s capture, and Jack’s kidnapping. 

A man who Orion quickly recognized as one of Dr. Three’s former assistants approached him on his way out the door. “He has invited you to lunch and I am to escort you there.”  An invitation to a lunch. How quaint . At least Dr. Three saved him the trouble from hunting him down. 

Yassen would surely disagree with him confronting Three alone, especially after everything, but Yassen wasn’t here. He had left him at the start of the interrogation so his opinion was a negligible one. 

A car was waiting for him by the Malagosto entrance and he figured if Dr. Three wished to see him, then so be it. He dismissed his appointed guards had trailed him since he left the interrogation room. 

Dr. Three didn’t want him dead—his death would still interfere with his retirement plans. No, this was a social call and he’d be remiss to disappoint. 

The car drove to an oddly fancy restaurant at the far edge of town where there was little civilization nearby. 

As it was far too late for an actual lunch yet too soon for dinner, the restaurant was empty save for a server, a chef, and the host, which suited Alex just fine: less witnesses. 

Dr. Three was seated alone—no guards or assistants of his lingered—at a table in the center of the room.

“Dr. Three,” he addressed with curt politeness, not bothering to wait for either the host or waiter to notice his entrance. Despite his simmered anger, Orion settled into a calm, resigned demeanor; he would be in control of this situation. 

“Alex, my boy. I’ve been expecting you.” He sounded almost giddy. 

Orion didn’t hesitate, didn’t exchange pleasantries, didn’t sit and chat. He aimed and fired once, severing the artery in the man’s thigh. He kept his gun trained on Dr. Three’s forehead as he spoke. Dr. Three would not be leaving this restaurant alive and he would make sure of it. 

“I told you the next time you gave me one of your ‘tests’ I’d kill you...and this one cost me members of my team.”

Dr. Three smiled through clenched teeth, clearly in significant pain. 

“Yes, hello Orion, you never disappoint...always rising to the occasion.” 

The server rushed in on the scene, screamed and dropped the glasses, scattering glasses over the wooden floors. 

Orion reacted quickly, removing her interference, deftly handling further interference from either the host or the chef as well before returning to Dr. Three.

“Orion, thank you; it’s a beautiful thing to see a student apply the lessons of his teacher with such success. I saw you handle Blunt admirably. Isn’t it nice to finally embrace your true potential?” Dr. Three reached a hand out to brush Alex’s cheek as he said reverently, “Your father would be proud.”

Orion had had enough. In an action long overdue, he fired a final shot through Dr. Three’s forehead and the man slumped over dead at the table. 

The world went silent and Alex came back to himself. 

Dr. Three was bleeding out on the table and the floor in puddles. Looking away from the gruesome scene he turned to the bar of the restaurant and saw the two bodies of the server and hostess bleeding out on the floor as well. The burnt smell from the kitchen reminded Alex of the fate of the chef and bile rose to his throat. 

Remembering his time in Point Blanc, he unlatched and dragged pressurized gas tanks from the kitchen into the main area, before dragging the bodies in the center as well. 

Blood coated his hands and smeared down his pants but he pointedly ignored it, he needed to keep it together just a little bit longer, clean up, and get out. Focus, he reminded himself. 

Standing near the exit, he fired a bullet into each tank, exploding them loudly and escaped out the rear door with flames licking at his back. 

A quarter mile away was a wooded area and Alex hardly noticed the building engulfed in flames behind him as he fled into the underbrush. 

Thoughts flitted through his brain like a motion picture of seeing the sniper, being trapped under the debris, reviewing the images of Adams torn apart by the beams and the Sagitta members crushed under the rubble. 

All for a test. Another bloody test. 

His hands were shaking. Dropping his gun somewhere beneath the fallen leaves, he ran his hands through his hair, pulling at the ends. This was all too much. 

He trudged through the wood paying little attention to his destination, drowning in his own thoughts. He thought of Tom, betrayed by Scorpia and captured by MI6, thought of the innocents he killed because Dr. Three wished it so, thought of Penny, the little girl he orphaned. He thought of Jack.

Perhaps Blunt was right and Dr. Three included her in his nefarious plot as well. The doctor was always rather indignant about Alex’s attachments and he wouldn’t put it past him to torture Alex by removing them all. 

Lost in his thoughts, he just kept walking hastily, not caring his destination. 

He couldn’t understand it. Why had he put him through such an ordeal? What did Dr. Three gain from it? Short-lived satisfaction at the fact that Alex had finally tabled his morals to torture the life out of the man who got him wrapped up into this life to begin with?

He had been diligently ignoring the burning of his overtaxed muscles for some time but he was forced to realize how late in the evening it became when he could hardly see his feet touch the forest floor. 

The trees blocked any view of the sky and glancing around, he recognized nothing but densely packed woods. 

He was well and truly lost. 

He checked his pockets and realized his phone was still with his security detail in Malagosto. He hadn’t been thinking clearly when he dismissed them. Yassen would certainly fire them for letting him dismiss them so easily. 

He needed a plan. Alex deftly picked a direction and just hoped it lead to civilization. 

Ten minutes of walking later, he stumbled and his foot snapped through collapse tree roots locking it in place as his leg lurched the other direction with a snap. He braced with his hands in front to keep from face planting but his foot remained lodged in the roots. 

His brain was slow to process the pain in its post-adrenaline-induced state and he just laid with his back to the forest floor while his head spun. 

Gaining his bearings, he sat up, grateful that Yassen insisted he never be unarmed and began gouging into wood with one of the knives he always kept with him, though progress was slow going. 

After nicking his leg for the third time, without making much progress on the thicker roots below trapping his now-swollen joint, he set down the knife and laid down. 

He’d had a white-knuckled hold on his emotional barriers since Blunt’s capture. Or perhaps, since Hurghada. 

Now as a bitter breeze blew by chilling him to the core, he finally started to crack. 

Looking down, he finally registered that his shirt was charred, covered in blood splatter and dirt.

Shaking from the stress or the cold, Alex could hardly tell the difference. He was so disgusted with himself that he could do nothing more than lay shivering on the forest floor with his foot pinned as he watched the movements of bats and other nighttime creatures around him. 

He resigned himself that if Dr. Three wanted Jack removed, she would be long gone. Tom too. There would be nothing Alex could do about it.

He cursed the dead man. Almost wished the doctor met the same fate as Blunt—No! 

He stopped this line of thinking at once. THIS was what the sadistic doctor wanted. Dr. Three wanted him to be a murderer, a torturer, and an effective Scorpia agent, no matter the cost. 

Dr. Three wanted to prove to him his full ‘potential’. Alex scowled at the man’s final lesson. The man had a knack for giving the worst tests and Alex so desperately wanted to tell Dr. Three exactly he could shove it. He really hoped the man’s research never involved learning how to survive a bullet to the head and arson. 

Yes, now it seemed in the last 48 hours, Alex made his sick and twisted dreams come true. 

Bile rose to his throat when he thought about those innocents bystanders at the restaurant. Alex rushed to a seated position and threw up everything until he was dry heaving. And seeing their blood caked on his hands had him scrubbing them roughly against the coarse tree bark to get clean. 

He’d never felt so lost and alone and confused. Alex and Orion had worked so seamlessly in the past and now, after all of Dr. Three’s meddling, he felt like he was being torn in half. 

He murdered people senselessly and tortured Blunt with his own two hands; it was unforgivable...and Three orchestrated it all. 

He tugged again helplessly at his jammed foot while trying again with the blade but it had little effect. It wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough. 

He finally cried for the lost members of Sagitta, for Tom and Jack who would’ve gone on and lived normal lives without him, for Penny, for other families he tore apart senselessly, and for Yassen. 

Everyone had died around him and Yassen was the one person who would survive it all. He trained him to survive. He made Alex his second-in-command to ensure his safety and even sacrificed his plans for a quiet retirement plans to see it through. 

Somewhere above the treetops, clouds rolled overhead and began drizzling rain, mirroring his mood. 

Exposed to the elements, and trapped in place, Alex considered the humor in him dying out here. He faced a Portuguese man-of-war, took on Kurst single handedly, survived land mines, and genetically engineered hyena and lived. This was embarrassing. He tugged at his foot once more for good measure but only managed to make it worse as he felt something pop. Waves of pain coursed up his leg. 

Yassen would search for him. That part he was sure. But he had walked—if not sprinted—for at least 6 or 7 hours, at minimum. He didn’t exactly tell anyone his intentions either.

Perhaps, setting the restaurant aflame would help; someone had to have noticed that. Though if they thought he’d run off to save Jack, maybe not. And if they realized he gone head-to-head with Dr. Three? Maybe not. Yassen did warn him that Dr. Three had an innate ability to make people disappear. 

All that time and energy Yassen put into him and now, he would have no second-in-command to take over Scorpia. 

On the cold damp ground, Alex was so tired, cold, and alone. His tears were washing away by the weather. He desperately needed a plan. Perhaps the rain would make the tree roots more pliable. He could close his eyes for a moment, conserve some energy for later. Instead, he succumbed to exhaustion and passed out. 

The rain only lasted a little over an hour but it was enough to leave Alex wet, shivering, and coated in mud. Regaining consciousness for a few moments as the sun shone in his eyes through the trees, his skin felt uncomfortably hot and clammy and he was too weak to move. Alone and tired, he soon passed out once again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Alex....


	12. The Aftermath

Soldiers trudged along the softened ground through the woods in an organized search teams. 

Marcus was sure as hell wasn’t going to be left behind. They had been doing shifts searching for over 12 hours. With a restaurant up in flames, they found their starting point within the first few hours of realizing Alex’s disappearance. It was relieving when none of the burnt bodies pulled from the debris matched Alex, but Marcus still berated himself. 

He was the last person to have seen Alex at Malagosto that they were aware of and he should’ve known something was off. He especially should not have let Alex go off without him. 

When he received a call from Walker, Alex’s interim security POC, that Alex hadn’t reported in for several hours, he was furious. He had appointed the man to look after Alex for half a day and was a prime candidate in Sagitta. Now, Alex was long gone and Walker was under review for expulsion. 

Alex always put him in some rough spots through the years, but that phone call to Yassen was something he hoped he’d never have to do again. 

He was sure Yassen would set his head on a pike next to Walker’s. Instead, he was put in charge of arranging the search parties and was instructed to include Dr. Javarti as well. To him, that wasn’t enough and thought it best to join the search himself. 

His thoughts drifted to Alex’s disappearance. While he wouldn’t be mad at the kid for running off he mentally relied on the assertion that that just wasn’t Alex. He wouldn’t do that. 

Then again, in the alternative, if Alex hadn’t left of his own volition, he could be long gone by now and there was little they could do about it. Further thought was interrupted by Dr. Javarti’s voice up ahead. 

“I’ve got a reading on the health monitor. He’s alive and close.”

He immediately called back in the teams to focus on the 5-6 mile radius. Dr. Javarti explained to him quickly what the monitor was but aside from noting its close-range capability, the rest of the information went over his head. Still, it might have just saved Alex’s life; Dr. Javarti was using the health monitor receiver to narrow down in which direction Alex had gone by where it lost his signal.

The call over the comms came within the next 20 minutes. “Shale reporting. I have him and need medical immediately.” Shale recited and repeated his coordinates and Marcus’ heart sped up. 

He arrived at the location minutes after medical to find Shale cutting through the base of a tree with an axe next to Alex while several soldiers cleared out nearby trees. 

The medics pried away the severed tree roots to free an uncomfortably distorted-looking foot of the unconscious teen. 

Alex hardly looked like himself. His skin was pale and speckled in blood, mud had darkened his hair, and several layers of thermal blankets covered his form. 

Marcus’s heart was beating out of his chest. If the oxygen mask strapped to his face hadn’t showed the signs of his breathing, Alex’s coloring and distorted limb made the thermal blankets look more like a body bag. 

Jack broke in through the trees at a sprint. 

“Oh my god, Alex!” She gasped, certainly coming to the same initial conclusion Marcus had without taking the time to stop and look closer. Tears streamed down her face. 

“Ms. Starbright,” Marcus said coming over and touching her elbow lightly. “It’s alright. We found him. He’s alive.”

Her hand was covering her mouth as she used the other hand to grip Marcus’s arm like a lifeline. 

Yassen entered the clearing as well though at a measured pace. A medic broke off from the group after they secured Alex to the stretcher and approached Yassen. 

“Mr. Gregorovich, we have him stable for now but the first 24 hours will be more telling.” 

More trees cracked and fell around them and were pulled from the clearing. 

“And transport?”

“Two minutes out.”

Sure enough, the sound of a helicopter echoed in the area and with the nearby trees cleared out, Alex was easily airlifted with Scorpia’s squad of top-tier medics and Danube as security. 

Marcus stayed behind and finalized the clean up with the search teams, while Yassen addressed getting Jack back to their transport. 

He was found alive, Marcus thought with relief and admiration. He knew well whose remains they had identified at the incinerated restaurant; Alex truly was a marvel...or insane. Definitely a bit of both, he mentally amended with a laugh. 

***

Waking up to bright lights and chatter, Alex could hardly understand what was happening. He tried sitting up and noticed he was hooked up to an IV on a hospital bed. 

“Hello, dear. You’re in a hospital. You’ve had quite the ordeal.” 

His limbs felt heavy and lethargic. 

“It’s alright, Peter. Rest. You’re recovering quickly and your temperature has stayed down which is good....” 

Alex drifted off to sleep before hearing the rest. 

The woods...Dr. Three...Blunt. Yes. He had been through ‘quite the ordeal’. 

The next time he woke, the nurses were chatting around him. Once they noticed he had waken, one informed him that his father was waiting outside. So Yassen was here. He quickly asked if they could send him in. 

Wearing colored contacts to match his own eyes, Yassen strolled right in and hugged Alex to his chest. 

This caught Alex entirely off guard, but after all the emotional stress, he found himself easily melting into the rare embrace. 

However, with the nurses swooning in the corner, happy to witness the reunion of a father and son, Alex reasoned it to just be part of the cover. He had seen Yassen take on a variety of roles over the year, but it was weird having him be any sort of affectionate father. 

Squeezing tighter, Yassen spoke softly and indubitably in his ear, “One more stunt like that and your next implant will involve a permanent tracker.” 

Alex froze at the cold threat but offered a subtle in understanding. Yassen then released him from the embrace but left a comforting hand on Alex’s shoulder. Directing a question to the nurses, he inquired, “How long until he can be discharged?”

The seemingly older of the two answered, “He was brought in late yesterday morning with a mild fever and signs of exposure. His ankle will take considerable time to heal, but it was a clean break. He’s very lucky.If he promises to stay hydrated and eat well, we can get him his antibiotics and discharge him shortly.”

Yassen nodded and left with the nurse to get the paperwork sorted, leaving behind a small duffle of nondescript clothes for Alex to change into. 

***

Discharged, Alex was lead to an unfamiliar car which Yassen drove back to his apartment in Abu Dhabi. He was rather happy not to be heading back to Malagosto so soon. 

So in Yassen’s apartment, Alex sat politely on the couch and awaited his reprimand; Yassen hadn’t spoken a word to him since those first few minutes as the hospital. 

Instead, Yassen returned with a large platter of cheese and meats including a glass and a pitcher of water. He simply sat at the other end of the couch and speared a delicately rolled cold cut with a fork. 

“Dr. Three is dead,” Alex admitted, breaking the uncomfortable silence. 

Yassen nodded, not surprised at the information and took a bite. After another few moments, he finally spoke. 

“It appears the doctor had ordered a series of tests these last few months under an alias to confirm his terminal cancer diagnosis. His condition was untreatable without adverse effects to daily function. I had the reports assessed by Dr. Javarti and based on growth progression of the tumors, it was only a matter of time before he showed signs of illness.”

Alex was rather surprised at the news but couldn’t help but think  _karma’s a bitch_. Yassen smirked darkly, likely sharing the same thought. 

Yassen continued, “It was discovered by Crux shortly after you left that the label of Dr. Three’s gift to you was laced with a neural inhibitor which diffused through the air.”

Yassen poured himself a glass of water before pouring Alex a glass as well. Alex was stunned and yet Yassen sounded almost bored about the matter as he continued. He sipped the proffered glass as his mind processed things. 

“She discovered this after being exposed to it herself following the interrogation. Your rooms, the medical unit, and Dr. Three’s domain are under quarantine. 

“Dr. Javarti has reached out to colleagues to more seriously study the drug and devise a way to reverse its symptoms. For now, by removing you from its vicinity and having you undergo additional therapy sessions, its effect will be minimized.” 

Focusing more on Alex, “You are not to return to Malagosto until it has been thoroughly sanitized of Dr. Three’s handiwork. You are on leave and can go as you please.” Yassen took a familiar set of keys from his pocket and set it on the table. 

Alex smiled lightly but his mind was still on overdrive. “What happened to Tom and Jack?”

“Azov has recovered both Tom and Cepheus. The intel acquired from Blunt was accurate.

“While you were addressing Blunt, Ms. Starbright received unauthorized instruction to move to a secondary location. Further transportation efforts were intercepted and it was ensured that she return to Abu Dhabi immediately.”

Alex could hardly process his words but stuttered out a “Yes, sir.” Jack had been targeted and Yassen stepped in and kept her safe. Would he ever not be indebted to the man? Probably not. 

“While the doctor’s tactics were...questionable, video of your participation in the capture and interrogation of Blunt were leaked. You will likely benefit from the protection it offers to your station as well as the bounty on his head.”

Alex shuddered and contemplated his words before a familiar look of stubbornness became evident. “I will NOT be doing it again,” he asserted resolutely, pinning Yassen with the most intimidating look he could muster while sitting on a comfortable couch, sipping a glass of water. 

“With such a display, I doubt a repeat performance will be needed for some time.”

Yassen sounded indifferent but his eyes gave away his amusement and almost sympathy. 

Alex hesitated with his next question. “And Blunt. Is he...?”

Yassen nodded. “He was disposed of shortly after you left.” Alex only nodded. 

Alex thought about the people he killed in the restaurant too and paled. 

His chest ached and breathing picked up. Yassen sat closer beside him on the couch and refilled a glass of water. 

Alex took it with unsteady hands, gulped in down to help ease the queasiness in his stomach, before returning the empty glass to the table. 

“Penny.” It barely came out audibly in a whisper but even if he didn’t say it, Alex knew Yassen would know where his thoughts had gone. 

“Blunt would not operate without some form of protection. You knew that. And he is not against using children. You knew that too, first-hand. Penny was removed from the premises by an agent as soon as Blunt dismissed her. She will now be relocated. The world will not miss his presence.” Yassen refilled Alex’s glass. 

“His niece might,” Alex shot back too quickly. Alex’s stomach still rolled at the notion. 

“An unfortunate complication.” 

Alex grimaced at the comment, but he knew it was simply the truth. 

Perhaps he could arrange for agent to adopt her, protect her, maybe two agents. Offer her what could be a normal family. He could even set up some kind of trust fund. He had plenty of money to spare—

“And risk her being added to your list of ‘attachments’? She’ll be a target and another weakness.”

“I didn’t—“ Alex sighed and narrowed his eyes.  _Ever the mind reader_. Alex knew he was nowhere near as skilled at masking his thoughts as Yassen but he couldn’t have been  _that_ obvious. If Yassen ever doubted her career as an assassin and leader of a terrorist organization, he’d make it big as a mentalist. 

Alex saw Yassen smirk lightly as if knowing where Alex’s thoughts had gone and he scowled, taking another sip of water to deflect the attention. 

Changing the subject, Yassen reminded him “You will need to confirm the new additions to Sagitta as well.”

“Yes, sir.”

Alex sat in silence for some time and curled up onto the couch. He must’ve looked a sight with his unruly hair, sweats, and long sleeve tshirt, though Yassen wouldn’t judge; they were away from prying eyes and the immediate stress of Scorpia. 

Actually, Alex found—with it just being him and Yassen—it was rather comforting. It reminded him of the old days. Before assassinations, before becoming Scorpia’s new management. 

Yassen had to have come to terms that while Alex could be professional, abide by his training, and behave when the pressures of Scorpia demanded it, he needed his teenager moments to keep sane. However, taking on Dr. Three with a handful of knives and a gun was not one of his brighter moments. 

He knew he was difficult—Jack reminded him often. Alex couldn’t help but be grateful Yassen had the patience for it.

His mind drifted back to the little girl he helped orphan and the guilt flooded his senses. 

“Penny will be traveling tomorrow to the states to stay with her cousins. They have a clean background and a two year old daughter themself,” Yassen supplied. “She will be looked after by two Scorpia agents for the flight and will convene with CIA agents for her transfer. To others, she would seem to be accompanied by child support staff members, quite typical for international arrangements.

“The CIA seemed unusually content, even amicable regarding the loss of Blunt. They readily agreed to assist in settling her into her new home.”

Already he felt better about things. “Yes, sir.” Alex smiled genuinely. 

Yassen seemed to consider something for a moment and Alex felt the mood take a sharp turn. “I do not appreciate the insubordination regarding Dr. Three,” he asserted. “Few that challenge Dr. Three live and you have tested his patience more than once. He may have very well released airborne toxins to kill you. He clearly had no regard for his own life and even less regard for yours.”

Alex felt ashamed. The admonishment was harsh but true. He had gotten careless.

“And yet,” Yassen finished in a softer tone, “you did well and you are alive.”Alex could only nod quietly shrink further into the couch cushions. He still didn’t feel good about it and soon, the week’s events caught up to him as he propped his head against the couch cushion. 

They sat in silence for some time before Yassen left to retrieve his latest volume in Korean and his laptop for use later. Returning to his spot on the couch, he noted the slumbering teenager before continuing with his reading. Never minding that in a few small adjustments the teen would once again find comfort in utilizing his person as a preferred headrest. A few hours of restricted circulation in one of his extremities was a trivial matter when ensuring Alex was rested and in good health. 

An hour later, when Alex finally settled in his restless sleep, curled on his side, the Afghan pulled over him, and his head resting on Yassen’s lap, the assassin observed the teenager. The graze on Alex’s arm blended in well with the other injuries he sustained in the woods, but the old bruising around his eye raised questions at the hospital. If he had had access to Malagosto’s medical facility, he’d have no need for involving a hospital, but risking Alex’s further exposure to Dr. Three’s drug was not an option. 

His fingers brushed over the healing bruise. He would allow Alex ample time to recover. The wound would heal quickly but the mental damage Three wrought would take time. 

As things stood, Scorpia was strong and Malagosto had sent their students to classes abroad while d’Arc oversaw the rebuilding of the quadrant of campus constituting Dr. Three’s former domain. 

Now his classroom, interrogation rooms, and research laboratories were incinerated and being built anew. While Alex was asleep at the hospital, he had handled the matter of Dr. Three’s ever-loyal assistants, ensuring they would no be a concern to Alex. 

Checking his phone, he saw Commander Hill’s latest update: Cepheus and Mr. Harris were in transit to Abu Dhabi and would arrive at 1400. 

Not lingering another moment, he opened his laptop and got back to work with Alex sleeping peacefully at his side. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus concludes...though there may be an epilogue. - AV


End file.
